All language subtitles for Sex and the City - S01E07 - The Monogamists

The island of Manhattan
is a cozy village

populated by more than
seven million
fascinating individuals

who all behave like
they own the sidewalk.

But lately, it seemed as if
the entire city

had been magically reduced
to only two people... us.

Four-hour conversations flew by
in a space of 15 minutes,

and a few days apart
felt like weeks.

I realized that Einstein's
law of relativity

would have to be amended
to include a special set
of rules,

those to explain the peculiar
effects of infatuation.

-Hello?
Hi!

I'm trying to get hold
of a Miss Carrie Bradshaw.

She used to be a friend of mine.

Ha. Good morning.

Wait, I think
I recognize that voice.

God, I can't believe
it's been so long.

I've been meaning to call you.
I've just been--

Fucking your brains out?

Yeah, well,
that's the least of it.

You know what?
I don't think

that I have been
hit this hard since...

No, you know what?
I'm not gonna compare it
to anything else

because everything else
has always ended.

So will I actually get
to see you sometime?

Yeah, absolutely.
How about tonight?

Yeah, tonight'll work.

All right, so I'll call
Charlotte and Samantha

and see if they're free,
'cause Big's got this dinner
thing so,

we didn't have
any plans anyway--

God, would you listen
to yourself?

Yeah, I know.

I've become one of those
women we hate.

Yes, you have.

I can't talk now.
I'll call you later.

-Okay?
-All right, bye.

As I hung up,

I realized I'd committed
the cardinal sin...

I'd forsaken my girlfriends
for my new boyfriend.

That night,
I faced the tribunal.

We really weren't
that concerned.

Just completely
hurt and offended.

Actually, you missed a lot.

I know, I am trying to...

Miranda had worked
on a big successful merger.

Samantha was obsessed with
the idea of a new apartment.

And Charlotte,

Charlotte was
practically engaged.

They met the day after I dropped
off the edge of the earth.

His name was Michael Conway.

He was from
a good New York family,

and he absolutely
adored Charlotte.

I think this might be it.

I think this might be the one.

We've met him.
He's perfect.

Even his fucking dog is perfect.

But... there is one thing.

Last night,
after Michael took Charlotte
to the Philharmonic,

they went back to his place

and began the classic
dating ritual,

the blow job tug of war.

Oh, come on.

Not tonight.

When?

Mm... sometime.

The truth is, I hate doing it.

Honey, you can't be serious.

Are you telling us
you never perform this act?

She'll juggle,
she'll spin plates,
but she won't give head.

I don't like putting it
in my mouth.

I have a very sensitive
gag reflex

and it makes me want to puke.

That's one way to say no.

It's not like I haven't tried.
I practiced on a banana.

I pretended it was
a Popsicle but...

I just don't like it.

Personally, I'm loving it,

up to the point where
the guy wants me to swallow.

Well, that's just
really a judgment call.

Some men just take it
so personally if you don't.

Some guys don't
give you a choice.

Well, that's just bad behavior.

Are you honestly
telling me you like it?

Well, it's not
my favorite thing on the menu,

but, you know,
I'll order it from time to time,

and with the right guy,

it can be nice.

Oral sex is like
God's gift to women.

You can get off
without worrying
about getting pregnant.

Plus the sense of power
is such a turn-on.

Maybe you're on your knees,
but you got him by the balls.

Now you see, that is the reason

that I don't want
to go down this road.

Sweetheart, if you're gonna get
all choked up about it...

Just don't do it, don't do it.

But if you don't go down on him,

how can you expect him
to go down on you?

I don't.

Oh, well, forget it!

I only give head to get head.

Me, too.

A few hours
and a couple of bottles
of Pinot Grigio later,

vows of friendship renewed,

we were almost
out the door when...

Hey, isn't that Mr. Big?

Yeah.

Oh, I'm gonna
go over and say hi.

Ditching us now
would be really bad form.

I'm not gonna ditch you.

Surprise.

Hey, Carrie!

-How are you?
-Good, good.

I was just here with my posse
having dinner,

and I saw you.

Oh, Carrie,

this is
Julia Woods.

-Julia, Carrie Bradshaw.
-Let's go.

Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you too.

Um, can I talk to you
for a second?

Sure.

-Excuse me.
Mm-hmm.

Are you on a date?

Sort of.

I thought you said you had
a business thing tonight.

I said
"a dinner thing."

Well, she's stunning,

and I should know because
frankly, she stunned me.

Well, enjoy your dinner.

Are you okay?

Oh, sure, sure,
I was just, you know,

I just didn't realize
you were dating other women.

-Well, not a lot of other women.
-Oh.

Why don't we talk
about this Saturday?

Sure, sure, sure.

So, um, then, enjoy your dinner.

Oh, already said that,
well, enjoy it twice.

All right, here we go.

I can't believe it.
He's seeing other women.

Prick.

True, we had never
discussed exclusivity.

But while for me the idea
of seeing another man

would be like trying to fit
another outfit

into an already
overstuffed suitcase,

Big was happily
dating another woman

like it was the most
natural thing in the world.

Is it that men have
an innate aversion to monogamy,

or is it more than that?

I wondered.

In a city like New York,

with its infinite possibilities,

has monogamy become
too much to expect?

I've been involved
in a monogamous relationship

for over a year now.

It's been wonderfully
fulfilling.

Of course,
my definition of monogamy

includes sex with prostitutes.

The problem with monogamy,

it's just so incredibly dull.

My lover and I have
a kind of '90s monogamy.

We have sex with other people,

but we don't exchange fluids
or phone numbers.

Hello.

Monogamy is fabulous.

It gives you a deep
and profound connection
to another human being

and you don't have
to shave your legs as much.

Of course, I'm monogamous.

Why, what have you heard?

This is the C-line.

This is the best
in the building.

Have you ever seen
any place like this?

Is this to die?

It's nice.

Hold this.

Just a second.

Excuse me.

Excuse me, was someone
looking for a view?

Oh, Pamela, it's beautiful,

but it's a little
out of my price--

I know, I know, so sue me.

I just love to show
the crème de la crème.

I will break my ass
for you, sweetheart.

I just want to ask you
for one small favor in return.

My first born?

No, sweetheart,
I don't even want my own kids.

Promise me that you won't
work with any other broker.

Of course!

Samantha didn't
believe in monogamy,

especially when it came
to real estate agents.

This is a pre-war six.

Notice the classic lines.

Very solidly built.

Although Pamela had
the hottest contacts in town,

Rick did have a slight
competitive edge.

He gave Samantha the opportunity

to combine her
two greatest loves,

sex and real estate.

That afternoon, I dragged
my poor tortured soul

out to lunch
with Stanford Blatch,

and attempted to stun it
senseless with Cosmopolitans.

Here you go.

Monogamy is on
the way out again.

It had a brief comeback
in the '90s,

but as the
millennium approaches,

everyone's leaving
their options open.

Come on, you wouldn't commit
to a nice guy given the option?

I can't even commit
to a long-distance carrier.

You know what you are?
You're a whore.

I wish that were true.

Hey, Stanford.

Hey, Jared, how are you?

My book just got
a kick-ass review
in Entertainment Weekly .

How marvelous.

Oh, Jared, have you met
Carrie Bradshaw?

No, but I've read your column.

-Nice shit.
Thanks.

You should write
about me sometime.

My life is so
fucked up right now.

Oh, Carrie,

Jared is the writer
of the book Avenue B ,

and New York Magazine
just named him

one of the 30 coolest people
under 30 in the city.

Wow, what an honor.

You know, if they were doing
the 30 sexiest women under 30,

I'm sure you'd go right
to the top of the list.

You're quite the storyteller,
aren't you?

That's no lie.

The magazine's throwing us
a party tomorrow night at Luna.

I'll be sure
and put your names at the door.

Oh, thanks.

So you'll be there?

I'll do my best.

Groovy.

Ciao.

What was happening
to me?

I used to get a secret rush
from men who hit on me

during their 15 minutes of fame.

In this case,
it merely felt exhausting.

Hello.

Well, hello.

Oh, hi.

I'm just calling
to confirm tomorrow night.

Are we still on?

Yeah, of course, we are.
Why wouldn't we be?

I was striving for noncommittal,

but I was worried
I had just bordered on shrill.

I'll pick you up at 8:00.

Um, yeah, 8:00's fine.

I miss you, baby.

Yeah, me too.

There were so many questions
I wanted him to answer,

but would not ask.

Not tonight at least.

No, tonight,
I would ask Miranda.

He said, "I miss you, baby."

Do you think that was meant
to be some kind
of coded mea culpa?

You mean like what
he really meant was,

"I've been a complete idiot,
please forgive me

for having dinner
with that other woman"?

-Yeah, exactly.
-Could be.

Well, no, because that would
mean that everything
that he ever said

that I interpreted as sincere
is subject to interpretation.

In that case, what I perceive
as his feelings for me

may only really be
reflected projections
of my feelings for him.

What?

Oh, God, I'm freaking.
I gotta stop.

Gotta stop.

Hey, Carrie!

Oh! Hey!

Hey, you guys, great to see you.

What are you up to?

Um, just hanging.

Oh, hey, Alison,
this is Miranda and Carrie.

Miranda and Carrie,
this is Alison.

-Hello.
-Hi. Nice to meet you.

-I've heard so much about you.
-Oh, me too.

We're all such big fans
of your column over at Vogue .

You work at Vogue ?

Yeah, designer relations.

Skipper and I just had
the most incredible meal.

Oh, it's this
little hole in the wall.

This darling French
bistro, that I am telling you,

I lived a year in Paris
and never ate so well,

-and cheap.
-Really?

Go quick before The Times
destroys it with a rave.

Okay.

Anyway, it's great to see
you guys.

Yeah, great meeting you.

-You too.
-Good night.

Bye!

Who was that
self-important bitch?

I think that was
Skipper's new girlfriend.

Well, she seemed all right.

I didn't think
that was his type.

Well, that's true, Miranda.
You're his type.

But you broke up with him,
remember?

Something looks different.

Has he been working out?

Hey, Skipper here.
Leave me a message.

Hi, Skipper.
It's Miranda.

Um, I just wanted to say it was
great running into you today,

and, uh...

you looked great.

Did you do something
different to your hair?

Hello?
Miranda.

Hey, I can't talk right now.

That's okay.

I just wanted to say maybe,
you know,

I thought we could
have dinner some night.

Seriously?

Yeah, I miss you.

I'll call you later.

Is everything okay?

Uh, Alison, um,
I think you're great,

and, uh...

But I've gotta be
totally honest with you.

The woman who
I think I love just called

and asked me back.

You're breaking up with me
while you're still inside of me?

As Skipper rededicated
his singular affection
for Miranda,

Charlotte was receiving her own
declaration of monogamy.

What do you think about

not seeing anyone else
but each other?

Really?

Yeah.

That might be a good idea.

I think it's the best idea
I've ever had in my life.

Well, in that case, absolutely.

And while Charlotte
embraced fidelity,

and Samantha flaunted
her infidelity...

I found myself
caught somewhere in between.

So who's very crowded
apartment are we in?

Max. He's an old friend of mine.

And remember,
Becky is his second wife.

She's a doll.
You'll love her.

Hey, there, stranger.

Melissa.

This is Carrie Bradshaw.

Hi, love your column.
Never miss it.

-Oh, wow, thanks.
-I've been trying to call you.

-Ah, yeah, you know--
-You still have my passport.

She's a friend
I once traveled with.

Internationally,
I would imagine.

-Let's find Max.
-Mm-hmm.

Hey, Max!

Excuse me.
Hey! Excuse me.

-Hey.
-Glad you could make it.

Max, I want you to meet
someone very special.

Julia.

Actually, it's Carrie.

Carrie! Well, welcome.

Carrie writes this fantastic
column in The New York Star .

It's called "Sex and the City."

Well, if you're
looking for material,
you're dating the right man.

Uh, thank you, Max.
Thank you very much.

Are we dating?

I thought we were just
sleeping together.

Oh, well,
I'm sure after tonight,

we won't be doing
much of either.

Excuse me.

I'll be right back.

Carrie.

Carrie.

You've got to be kidding.

How many women are you dating?

In the tristate area?

Well, let's see, there's me,
um, Julia.

Oh, and let's not forget
international Melissa.

Carrie, I'm not doing this here.

Fine.

Can we just enjoy the party?

I don't know.

Come on, I mean,
what do you want from me?

What do I want from you?

Nothing.

I don't want anything from you.

I have to go, I'm sorry.

I felt like a fool.

I had gone so far out

on a limb with my feelings

that I didn't realize
I was standing out there alone.

When life gets this confusing,

sometimes there's only
one thing to do,

attend a fabulous party.

Hey, Stanford.

Carrie! What a surprise!

-Where's, um--
-Oh, don't ask.

What happened?

He became predictable.

How predictable?

Hey, you made it.

Hey, Jared.

I'll get you a drink.

Cosmopolitan. Thanks.

In a room where everyone
was gorgeous, cool,
and under 30,

monogamy suddenly began
to seem like a quaint notion.

God, that was like so great.

Mm-hmm.

Don't you just want
to lie like this forever?

Well, for a few minutes anyway.

I missed you.

And I want you to know that
that other woman

doesn't mean a thing to me.

Oh, that's all right.

I don't mind
if you keep seeing her.

Oh, God, no.

I broke up with her
the second that you called.

Skipper, you didn't
have to do that.

Of course, I did.

I was so happy to hear from you

that we were still doing it
while I was talking to you

and I didn't even realize it.

You're kidding, right?

No. Isn't that crazy?

Yeah, that's exactly
what it is, crazy.

Listen, Skipper,

I'm not ready for a full-blown
relationship thing.

What?

I mean, we can see each other

and still see
other people, right?

No, no, we can't.

At least, I can't.

Why did you call me back anyway?

I'm-- I'm sorry, I thought...

I-- I'm not your private
stud horse, you know.

Miss dial-a-fuck.

-Come here.
-You know...

Come back.

I'm tired of
being jerked around.

I hope you find
what you're looking for.

While Miranda misjudged
the intensity
of Skipper's feelings,

Michael left Charlotte
no doubt about his.

You're amazing.

You've got everything
I'm looking for,

and I've never found before
in one woman.

Brains, taste, class...

And you're very, very, sexy.

Thank you.

What's the problem?

I hate doing it.

You hate giving blow jobs?

It's not that big
of a deal, is it?

Well, sort of.

Can't you just do it for me?

Would you really want me
to do something
that I didn't want to do?

You'll get used to it.

No, I won't.

I never have. Sorry.

Well, I plan on getting a lot
of blow jobs in the future,

and I'm hoping that
you're around when I get them.

What's that supposed to mean?

It means I'll have to
find them somewhere else.

You're telling me

that you would give up a woman
who really cares for you,

who would share your hopes
and your fears,

and your dreams,

the future possible mother
of your children,

all for a blow job?

You're right.

Will you at least lick my balls?

Goodbye, Michael.

Michael was upset,
but Butterscotch seemed pleased.

She was finally back
in her monogamous relationship.

Half past midnight
in a city that never sleeps,

neither did
the real estate market.

It's beautiful.

Isn't it?

It went on
the market at midnight

and you're the first
one to see it.

Two bedrooms, pre-war,

fireplace and views.

Everything you wanted.

I love it.
I really love it.

I knew you would.

Let's celebrate.

Oh, my God.

I can't believe that you are
working with another broker.

I can't believe you weren't
gonna show me this apartment.

2:00 a.m. and I already
had a new man in my life.

You know, the greatest thing
about writing
a successful book,

besides the validation,
the acclaim,

is knowing that I'm pumping
my ideas into the world.

I thought it was the fact
that you could behave
like an utter asshole

and people would
find you amusing.

I'm like in love with you.
You know that?

I'm like fucking
in love with you.

Will you go home
with me tonight?

Give me a minute.
I just have to make a call.

Hello.

I just wanted
to let you know

that I'm at this very cool party

for very cool people under 30

and this very cool novelist
wants to take me home.

What? What the hell
happened to you?

His name is Jared.

He's really cute,
and really successful,

and he just put
his arms around me.

Here, say hello, Jared.

Hello, Jared.

That was Jared.

Carrie, just get over here.

No, you get over here.

I can't.
I don't know where you are.

I'm at the Luna Park Cafe.
Just meet me out front.

Your name's not on the list.

Forty-five minutes later,

I realized I was alone
in a park at 3:00 a.m.

And that it was time
to call it a night.

What are you doing back here?
You said to meet out front.

This is the front.

This isn't the front.
This is the back.

I've been waiting out front
for 30 goddamn minutes.

You see those doors?
That's the front.

You were waiting
at the street entrance.

The street entrance
is the front entrance.

Depending on where
you're coming from.

Okay.

I'm here.
Now, what's going on?

I've done the merry-go-round.

I've been through
the revolving door.

I feel like I met somebody

I can stand still with
for a minute and...

Don't you want
to stand still with me?

You dragged me out to a park
at 3:00 in the morning

to ask me if I want
to stand still with you?

Yes.

In a city of infinite options,

sometimes there's
no better feeling

than knowing you only have one.