Sex and the City - Second Season

When you live on a tiny island like Manhattan...

the odds of bumping into the one who broke your heart are incredibly high.

The odds of bumping into him when you look like shit are even higher.

After a break-up, certain streets, locations,

even times of day are off-limits.

The city becomes a deserted battlefield loaded with emotional land mines.

You have to be very careful where you step,

or you could be blown to pieces.

Get your coat, Anne Frank, we're going out.

-Guys, I'm really not in the mood. -Coat on. Body out.

-Where are we going? -It's a surprise.

Okay, but only if it's nowhere I can run into him.

Just when exactly do you think

you're gonna be getting out of this hostage situation?

- Miranda... -What? Am I wrong?

Don't listen to her, Carrie, it's only been a month.

It takes half the total time you went out with someone to get over them.

I always like a good math solution to any love problem.

It's the break-up rule. You and Big only went out for a year.

So that means that she's got five more months to get over him.

No! You gotta cut your losses and get back in the game.

When Eric and I broke up, I got over him right away.

I don't really remember it being like that.

Eric who?

Eric, asshole I dated a couple of years ago.

Oh. That Eric.

Miranda used to call Eric the love of her life

until he left her for another woman.

Now, she almost never mentioned him.

You can't push yourself into feeling good.

The only way to get over somebody is to feel really bad,

cry to your girlfriends,

and then, to replay what you hated about him

over and over in your head all day.

Yep, that sounds about right.

You're too dressed up for where we're going.

I'm going to risk overdressed

versus a chance meeting Big for the first time, looking the way I feel.

Oh, God! Seeing someone for the first time is the worst.

You never know how to act.

Yeah. And then there's the vomiting.

You know, if Big had any class, he would've moved away.

I was here first.

You're giving him too much power. You broke up with him, remember?

Right, and that makes me what, happy?

Taxi!

Amazingly, Samantha was still with James.

A monogamous relationship for a woman

whose bedroom was usually busier than Balducci's on a Saturday.

Hey, you lovebirds.

Oh!

And how are the most beautiful women in Manhattan?

If we see them, I'll ask.

Have a fun day.

And don't let anything bad happen to my princess.

Aw!

I love you.

God, Samantha, everything is going so great.

Me, James, and his tiny penis. We're one big happy family.

After two months, despite all his sweetness and charm,

Samantha still hadn't quite accepted James's... shortcomings.

When Miranda said, "Get back in the game, " she meant it.

Forty minutes and a $55 cab ride later, we found ourselves at Yankee Stadium.

Who wants another?

Miranda was a fan of the Yankees.

I was a fan of being anywhere you could smoke and drink

at 2:00 in the afternoon without judgment.

-Beer! -Beer!

Do they have hot cocoa?

Okay! Coming up to bat, the new Yankee.

Just up from the Minors, single. Oh so cute.

I can barely see him. Why are we sitting all the way up here?

Because it's the only place I can smoke

without Giuliani putting me away for ten years.

These seats suck.

This hot dog sucks. My entire life sucks.

Your life doesn't suck. You have a man who really loves you.

Oh, yay, love! Whoo!

I don't think you ladies understand the seriousness of my situation.

How would you like to make love to this every night?

Is it kosher?

Don't make me laugh. It's tragic.

Can we all just try and get into the game for a second?

-All right. -Come on! Show us what you got.

Last year this guy was Mr. September.

He hit ten home runs in nine days.

Ball! Good eye!

Way to watch them.

He batted .373. He drove in 47 runs.

His on-base percentage was .410.

As Miranda went on and on about the new Yankee's stats,

I couldn't help but wonder about my own...

Ten years playing in New York, countless dates,

five real relationships, one serious, all ending in break-ups.

If I were a ballplayer I'd be batting... Whatever really bad is.

My God! Here it comes!

You got it!

Do you know what the odds of catching a fly ball are?

I didn't.

I couldn't help but wonder if they were any higher

than finding a relationship that would last.

Three innings, four beers and one shameless flash of my press pass later,

we waited outside the locker room to get my ball signed by the new Yankee.

Hi! Good game.

Did you see that bulge?

Uh... He was wearing a cup.

Well, honey, his cup runneth over.

It's official, you're drunk.

I'm not drunk, I'm sedated from my pain.

She's allowed to be drunk, she's going through a break-up.

Oh! Hey. Hi.

Excuse me. Huge Yankee fan.

We don't mean to bother you but my friend caught your ball.

This is her.

-I'm her friend. - Hi.

We were wondering if you'd sign it?

-That foul ball to the upper deck? - Yes. I mean...

Yes. If it's not too...

I'm a huge Yankees fan. I'm a lawyer.

So, if I don't sign it, you'll sue me?

No. No, I don't know why I said that.

No problem, give me the ball.

Give him the ball.

Oh!

-Could you hold these? -Sure.

Thank you.

-You a Yankee fan, too? -Actually, no, I came for the beer.

-I think baseball's a little dull. -Oh, yeah?

-What do you do? -She writes a column.

A sex column.

-Nothing dull about that. -You'd be surprised.

-Here you go. -Thank you.

Whoo!

He's so cute.

I'm gonna ask him to the Dolce & Gabbana party.

What?

No, really, you can't.

Yankee!

I don't know if it was the beer or the fact that I was holding his ball,

something gave me the strength to ask the new Yankee out.

No, no, no. This is not fair.

This is not the way this is supposed to happen.

Why? You told me to get back in the game.

Yeah, with some balding CPA or other boring rebound guy.

Nobody rebounds with the new Yankee.

Well, maybe I'm the new Carrie.

Come on, ladies, let's blow this hot dog stand.

Come on!

Samantha, let's go.

She knew it was risky, but a day of watching big men

swing their big wooden bats proved to be too much for Samantha.

She told herself there's no harm in just looking.

Can I help you?

Um...

As my ballpark cheap beer buzz wore off,

I began to worry about the ramifications of my day.

Was Charlotte right?

Were we supposed to get over an ex in a slow, painful way?

Or should we ignore all the bad feelings and throw ourselves back in the game?

In a world where leaving each other

seems to be getting more and more frequent...

What are the break-up rules?

Whatever you do, man, don't cry.

'Cause if you do get back together again,

then like, you're the guy that cried.

Don't call or see him till three months have passed.

That's how long it takes to lose

the weight you put on when you were breaking up.

Give her whatever she wants, but don't sign a motherfucking thing.

Change your name, change your phone number.

Change your job. They're all bums.

-You got a problem? - No, no!

Friday night, the Dolce & Gabbana party.

The new Yankee was ten minutes late.

I was running 20 behind.

Oh, God.

I was reaching for my favorite necklace when...

I thought I'd destroyed all the evidence,

but there it was.

We'd taken it with a disposable camera

before it ever dawned on me that we could be disposable as well.

It was then and there I created my own very first break-up rule.

"Destroy all pictures where he looks sexy and you look happy."

The party was a complete home run.

All the fashion heavy-hitters were there.

Oh, come on, honey. Paul!

Charlotte was dating Paul Ericson,

the VP of a major recording label's classical and jazz division.

Hey, ladies, having a good time?

You're not gonna believe it. This guy's never heard Miles Davis.

-I don't really like that jazz stuff. -Stuff?

You just wait. I'm gonna give you our "Best of Miles Davis" CD.

His stuff's gonna change your mind.

His concentration of emotion in the phrasing...

It's fucking magical.

He was handsome, smart, eclectic.

The perfect match for Charlotte.

Except for one minor snag.

The authenticity of Miles' timbre is gonna blow you away.

I mean, the fusion revolution