Day 72: Can't Touch This

This may be almost literally what I wear to an upcoming benefit concert for Haiti that my sisters and I are doing. I just bought this dress today ($130). It's by a new-to-me designer, Isabella Oliver, with whose collection on wearable, easy-but-elegant dresses I've now become obsessed. I saved six to my online wardrobe, so you'll be seeing much more of her designs. I actually even ordered another one of her dresses and two Victoria's Secret numbers (that I'll post in the coming days, feel free to vote). Hopefully one of them will work for the event.

I also bought advanced tickets for SATC 2. Hank and I will be seeing the 4:00pm show the day after it opens (he needs to study on premiere night). We'll be all decked out in cocktail attire, since we'll be heading to his end-of-the-year gala right afterwards. It's for the best. Somehow it just wouldn't feel right seeing the movie in anything other than heels. And here's where I say thank you to Hank for being such a trouper through all of this. What kind of boyfriend watches a whole chick-series with his girlfriend, comments continually on her silly blog about it, and isn't afraid to go see it at the theater dressed to the nines? The great kind.

The next two episodes end the first part of season 6, which means there are 8 episodes and a movie left until T-Day (theater day) and only nine days in which to write about them. Eek. Carrie meets up with Big on his brief visit to New York to have heart surgery. As his closest friend there (and let's face it, because she loves him), she decides to stay with him during the recovery. For a moment, Big looks at her and wonders why they continue to play games when life is so short, but the next day he's back to his distant self. After he leaves, Carrie meets a quirky, famous Russian artist at an art opening, and the older man asks her out.

After trying alternative medicine, Charlotte becomes pregnant, only to lose the baby a mere month later. Devastated, she has to summon all her strength to move on with life and be hopeful. Samantha takes issue with Smith trying to hold her hand but eventually gives in. Steve walks in on Miranda and her new boyfriend having sex. Much tension between the two couples ensues. Miranda realizes she's not over Steve when her boyfriend says, "I love you," and she can't say it back. At Brady's first birthday party, Miranda instead says the words to Steve, and he says them back, saying she's "the one" and always has been.

I could write about the Russian guy I once dated, but I'm not going to. Here's why not:

1. I would be doing the same thing this episode does by stereotyping all Russians as dramatic, romantic, and depressive.

2. I can't remember his last name, and that bothers me.

3. He was twenty back then, which is far too young and innocent in my humble opinion to be subjected to being the topic of an ex's blog post.

That said, I don't really feel like writing about Big and Carrie, either. I mean, it just becomes silly after a while, you know? Same baggage, different season. I also can't really talk about fertility and miscarriage, because I've never experienced it. And that's one thing you can't accurately imagine experiencing--imagining will never be enough to know what it's like. So that leaves the holding hand issue. While I initially thought it was the weakest plot element amidst a sea of weighty issues, I am beginning to see it with new (and desperate) eyes. And I am beginning to see how it actually has some relevance in my life. In fact, it may just be a perfect topic.

Let me just say that I rarely stop to consider my similarities to Samantha. But last week, I took an online quiz that tested which SATC character I am most like, and my result was she. (You no longer have to wonder who actually takes those quizzes. Here I am). I was shocked and a little appalled. For me, Samantha has always represented the woman everyone wants to know but no one wants to be.

But the more I've thought about it, the more I see the connection. Maybe I don't consistently dress in provocative outfits or sleep with different men every few nights or sometimes even in a single afternoon. I'm not a big-shot career woman, unbothered by whom she tramps on in order to make her point. And I don't think plastic surgery is a good idea. But, there are some similarities between the two of us. Like her, I tend to be very vocal in my judgments. (Just the other day a friend said to me, "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you just tell me how to live my life?" This was after I told her to stop staying up so late and to drink more water. She said it in good fun, but I got the hint.) I, too, have a somewhat liberal sexual philosophy. I also have some intimacy issues. That holding hand crap? That could be me on the wrong day, even on the right one. And don't even get me started about antipathy about marriage.

See, Hank and I differ on one big thing: affection. He likes to give it (a kiss when he gets home, a touch here and there to say he cares, an "I love you" in every correspondence) and get it back. I have disappointed on many occasions. He'll come home when I'm writing or practicing, and I won't even look up. Or I may glance at him, smile, and say, "Hey." That's it, which is fine for me. At night, he would prefer that I fall asleep on his chest, like I used to when we first started dating (because I knew it made him feel manly, even though it killed my jaw). I prefer to maybe touch feet or hands in the drifting off stage but nothing else.

He is not the first boyfriend with whom I've had this issue. Many times, the guy wondered why I didn't want to hold his hand or why I shied away from his touch or kiss. And I've never been able to explain myself. I always had some loose theories. I could count on one hand the number of times I've seen my parents touch affectionately besides the usual peck on the lips before bed (blame it on ma and pa). I wasn't held enough as a child (again). My skin was sensitive, or I simply liked having my personal space and it was his problem. But it always spelled issues for my romantic relationships. (Though I apparently used to even punch parters in my sleep, so I guess I'm progressing with Hank.)

This episode made me see my issue from a new light--by watching Samantha. It's very easy to see why she is the way she is, because the show tells us. She's afraid of getting hurt, so she keeps her distance, even when it makes no sense to. Smith is clearly in love with her and treats her like a queen, but she still has a hard time letting down her guard with him. So, if I am truly most like Samantha (so much for not taking online quizzes too seriously), perhaps I, too, push people away before they have the chance to hurt me. The reasoning goes something like this: Don't say, "I love you" too much, and don't get too comfortable, because you never know when you'll be on your own again, where you're safer anyway. Maybe, like Samantha, I fiercely avoid intimacy in order to avoid pain, even when it means pushing people away who love me and whom I can trust.

I don't know if the above statement is true or not, but it feels true, regardless of any debatable further connection with Samantha's character. Something about it feels maybe truer than anything I have written throughout this project. And if that's all I take away from this whole thing, I can live with that. (As for what you're taking away from reading this, I have no idea.) I always thought my aversion to affection had to do with temporary things--being busy, being hot, being mad at my partner. But I'm beginning to see that it's just me, no matter my mood or hormones or schedule.

Sure, sometimes I feel very affectionate. It seems to come in bursts--like a caged animal that has been set free. At those times, I grab Hank and kiss him or walk into his study and wrap my arms around him in a bear hug. It feels like I'm so full of affection that it's dripping out of me. But most of the time, I'm not touchy-feely. I'm even a bit frigid. It's something I would like to get better at, though, because I want Hank to know I love him--for him to be able to physically see that. But it's really tough. It's really, really tough.

I hope you'll be back. I will.