All language subtitles for ege4sac

Once upon a time,

in a kingdom
far away,

a certain man and a slightly
less certain woman

kept bumping
into one another.

They seemed to
meet everywhere.

On street corners,

at parties.

It was almost as if they
were dating accidentally.

And then, after
another chance meeting

at a wealthy lawyer's
new son's bris...

Oh!

...they decided to pick a time
to bump into each other
on purpose.

You wanna go out and get...

Saturday, 10:30,

the hottest new
restaurant in Manhattan.

-You're not on the list.
Samantha's PR firm was
handling the opening.

Hi.
-Hey.

Hey! Hi, pretty.

So, isn't
Brian great?

Charlotte had
a new boyfriend.

Did I tell you he wants to
buy a painting from my gallery?

Love and a commission,
she couldn't have been happier.

Alright,
it's official, he's late.

Who?

Mr. Big,
who else?

Carrie, that's great!
Is it a date?

No, he called
it a "thing."

He said "Meet me...

meet me for
a drink thing."

He never used
the "D" word.

Well,
thing is good.

I mean, thing comes
before date.

Well, let's hope so.
Alright, I'm gonna go in.

-Okay.
-Okay.

See you in there.

Where did
Skipper go?

Oh, I don't know how you can
date that younger guy.

I mean, they're so
scattered and unfocused.

We're not dating,
it's a fuck thing.

-Girls, isn't this fun?
Hello!

I've turned away
twenty so far.

People are actually crying.

Okay. Bye.

Um, something came up.

He's not
gonna meet me.

Here, will you listen
to this and tell me
if you can figure out

whether he's not
meeting me as a date

or not meeting
me as a friend?

Alright.

Sometimes you need
a second opinion.

With doctors,
real estate, men.

Well?

I have no idea.

And I finished first
in my litigation class.

How pathetic
do I feel

asking you if a guy
kinda likes me?

There you are!

Hey!
-Hey.

Hi.

Carrie, Miranda,

this is the hottest
chef in New York, Jon.

Jon.

J-o-n.

No "H",
no last name.

His blue crab strudel was so
fabulous he didn't need one.

And this is his very
cute friend, Sam.

Hey.

Sam?

Who's named Sam?

Me.

Can I get
you a drink?

Oh, good luck,
the bar is packed.

No problem, 'cause the
bartender's a buddy of mine.

-Miranda?
Martini.

Twenty-something guys
always know the really
important "B"

busboys, bouncers.

Plus, they
have cute butts.

Hmm...

That's the
Times critic.

I'd better go.

Mmm.

Did I mention I'm
sleeping with him?

Skipper!

He's lost.
We gotta...

They stopped
making martinis,

so I got us two rum
and Cokes, is that okay?

Well, I hate rum
and I hate Coke,

but thanks.

Martinis, ladies?
-Well, look at you.

I was a
waiter at TGIF.

Fabulous.

-Hey.
-Hey.

-Sam.
-Skipper.

-Hey.
-Hey.

They liked
each other immediately.

You want to
see something?

Come here.

Can you narrow that
down a little bit?

Wait.
I didn't--

No fair.
Do it over. Let me see it.

Oh!

-Hey!
-Hey!

It's you.

I've been looking
all over for you.

Here you are,

holding a tongue.

Well, your message said
you weren't coming.

I thought I said I'd try
to make it for an hour.

Well, yeah, but
then you said that--

-What-- What did I say?
-Never mind, never mind.

You're here. You have an hour.
Let's have a drink.

Well, I was outside trying to
get in for 30 minutes,

inside looking for
you for 20 minutes.

So that leaves me with just
enough time to tell you that...

I'm out of time.
You have fun.

Men in their 40's are
like the New York Times
Sunday crossword puzzle.

Tricky,
complicated,

and you're never really sure
you've got the right answer.

This place is tired.

Do you want to
get out of here?

Sure.

Uh-huh.

Why not?

A short cab
ride later,

Samantha, Jon, no "H",
Sam and I,

found ourselves at the
nearby twenty-something club.

I can't believe you made
Jon leave his own opening.

Well,
he is way too happening

to be seen someplace
borderline tired.

It was a
tough town.

Hot places had the
life span of a med fly.

Samantha,

everybody in here
is in their twenties.

And so are we.

As I glanced
around the room,

I was amazed at the wide variety
of great twenty-something guys.

The groovy guy.

The corporate guy.

The jock guy.

The underage guy.

Oh, there you are.
How are you?

Big couch.

Oh, here.
You can squeeze.

Oh! Whoa!

Oh!

I'm all right.

I'm not too heavy?
I don't weigh too much?

Oh, right, you weigh
like nothing.

Aw, what's cuter
than that?

As we took a swig
from our pony-necked beers,

I remembered another type
of twenty-something guy.

So,

what's it like to kiss
with that thing?

You want
to find out?

The really good kisser guy.

Hello.

I am so fucked.

What's wrong?

No, I mean,
literally.

I have been fucked every
way you can be fucked.

If you keep talking like
that, I'm going to have to
charge you by the minute.

As I searched for my
morning Marlboro Light,

Samantha proceeded to give me a
rundown of her night with Jon.

No "H",
no inhibitions.

We did it with
him on top.

Me on top.
Me on my side.

Him on his side?

Oh, God, yes.

On his back,

on his side,

on his face.

Have you
ever done that?

It's too early
to remember.

Well, do it
immediately.

It is fabulous.

These guys in their twenties,
they are up for anything.

How did
it go with, uh...

you and Sam?

We kissed.

Just kissed?

No. We just kissed
for five hours.

At the club, in front of the
club, on the corner of the club.

I forgot how much fun it
is to just kiss, you know,

even if I did only get
about two hours sleep.

I didn't
sleep at all.

As Samantha went on
about her sexual escapades,

I glanced down at my arm.

There it was
in Bic blue.

Twenty-something
Sam's phone number.

I had this sudden urge to
call but I'd just left him.

Hell, my lips
were still swollen.

Why this
sudden craving?

Are men in their twenties
the new designer drug?

Yes, Samantha, Miranda and I
were all recreational users,

but were we getting into
something we couldn't handle?

Okay.
We were attracted to younger
men for various reasons.

But I couldn't
help but wonder,

what do they
see in us?

Women in their thirties
are just so grateful.

It's like every bullshit,
nice thing you do

is like throwing food to the
starving.

Take your shot!

They give great head
and know a lot about wine.

They remind
me of my mom.

They know who they are
and what they want.
And I like that.

Come on, take it!
Come on, take it, man!

Fuck!

smart pussy.

Shoot it!

Later that week,
Miranda and I compared notes.

Shouldn't we be
dating men our own age?

Good luck
finding one.

There are no available men in
their thirties in New York.

Giuliani had them removed
along with the homeless.

Well, so then what's
really going on here?

I mean, is it younger...
younger men feel safer?

What's really going
on here is sex.

Good old fashioned,
eager to please,

do what I tell you to,
Eagle Scout sex.

Yeah, but I'm
not having sex.

It's a
kissing thing.

So what's
the big deal?

It's just a fling.

It's not like we're throwing
out our schedules or anything.

Oh, sweetie,
I gotta go.

-Yeah?
-I'm late for a
meeting with my editor.

-Oh.
Bye!

Bye.

I didn't want to tell
her I canceled lunch

with my editor to go to
Banana Republic

and help twenty-something
Sam pick out a shirt.

Here.

As I helped him try
them on, I thought...

he's sweet, he's fun,
and I think he likes me.

Could he be
more than a fling?

Could he be a
potential boyfriend?

Please.

This isn't the Gap.

What's wrong with him?

And speaking of
potential boyfriends...

later that week
the crossword puzzle

asked me to meet him
for a drink, blank.

Not quite a date, five letters,
starts with a "T".

Yeah, whoever this is,
I can't talk.

-I'm late for a drink thing.
-I just need five minutes.

I'm meeting Brian later and
I don't know what to do.

-About what?
Well, last night

after a movie, we were walking
down 2nd Avenue

-and we we just pass that
cute little--
-Four minutes, Charlotte.

Okay, I can't just blurt
out what he asked me,
it's embarrassing.

What?

What did the perfect
boyfriend ask?

Meet me in front of your
apartment in ten minutes.

Okay, words
are essential.

Tell me exactly
how he worded it.

"We've been seeing each
other for a couple of weeks.

I really like you,

and tomorrow night
after dinner,

I want us to
have anal sex."

Okay, next stop is gonna be
62nd and Madison.

Sixty-second and Madison?

We're picking up Miranda.

-No, God, no.
-Yes, and then

-we're picking up Samantha.
-Oh, Carrie, no.

Sweetie, listen, you need all
the girl support you can get

and I'm late for
drinks with Big.

Oh, that's great.

Even in her state
of abject blackness,

Charlotte was a
dating optimist.

It all depends.

-How much do you like him?
-A lot.

Dating a few months
until someone better
comes along a lot,

or marrying and moving
to East Hampton a lot?

I don't know.
I'm not sure.

Well, you better
get sure real quick.

You're scaring me.

-Okay.
-Don't scare her.

It's all
about control.

If he goes up there, there's
going to be a shift in power.

Either he'll have the
upper hand or you will.

Now there's a certain camp
that believe whoever holds

the dick, holds
the power but...

Hello.

You're driving.

if he goes
up your butt,

will he respect you
more or respect you less?

That's the issue.

No, no smoking in cab.

Sir, we're talking
up the butt.

A cigarette is in order.

Front, back,
who cares?

A hole
is a hole.

Can I
quote you?

Oh, don't be
so judgmental.

You could use a
little back door.

I'm not a hole.

Honey,
we know.

Look, all I'm saying,
that this is...

This is a physical
expression that the body was--

well, it was designed to
experience.

And P.S.

It's fabulous.

What are you
talking about?

I went to Smith.

Look, I'm just saying,
with the right guy

and the right lubricant...

Whoa.

What was that?

A preview?

Thanks.

Well, I can't
believe it.

Same time,
same place.

Just you and me.

Well,
sort of.

Meet my friend, Jack.

Oh.

Hi,
how are you?

Marvelous.
Going through my second divorce,

bitch is getting everything
the first bitch didn't.

There he was, right in
the middle of my drink thing.

Mr. Marvelous.

Jesus.

Look at that
beautiful woman.

I'm gonna go ask her
to join us for dinner.

Excuse me.

Okay.

He called me crying.

Do you forgive me?

Here's what.

Why don't you two
have a guy's night.

You know, talk,
cry, shoot bear.

I'm way behind
on my column anyway.

Here.

Next round
on me.

We'll do our thing
another time.

Are you sure?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

I didn't know what I
was supposed to feel.

Confused,
sad, rejected?

I decided to walk
to clear my head.

Also, I just left my
cab fare on the table.

So I walked.

I walked 48 blocks
in four hundred dollar shoes.

I just needed something
to take the edge off.

A little kiss to
make me feel better.

But now,
it wasn't working.

I wasn't getting
the same rush.

Tonight, I needed more.

Meanwhile, uptown, Charlotte
wondered when relationships had
gotten so complicated.

She yearned for the time
when dinner was followed
by dessert,

not lubricant.

I-- I can't,
Brian, I can't.

I want to, but I can't.

I mean, actually,
no, that's not true.
I don't want to.

Or maybe I do.
I don't know what I want, but,

I'm afraid if I don't then
you'll dump me

and if I do, then I'll be
the up-the-butt-girl.

And I don't want to be
the up-the-butt-girl.

Because, I mean, men don't
marry the up-the-butt-girl.

Who ever heard of
Mrs. Up-The-Butt?

No, no, no.

I can't.

I want children and
nice bedding and...

I just can't handle
this right now.

Can we fuck
the regular way?

Yes, please.

That night they made

polite and respectful

on three hundred count
Egyptian cotton sheets.

Meanwhile, downtown...

That was
really great.

Do you know...

Yeah.

-...when you lay like that...
-Mm-hmm.

...you have the cutest little
wrinkles in your neck.

Samantha realized
as long as she dated
someone younger,

she would
always be older.

She gave up twenty-somethings
right then and there.

As Samantha
went cold turkey...

I got in
deeper and deeper.

Oh, that was...

Totally awesome.

I was hooked.
Gone.

Who cares
about age,

crossword puzzles,

the cab money I'd
left on the table?

This felt so good.

I'd do anything
to keep this high.

And just when I thought
I couldn't get any higher...

he spooned me.

I woke up wanting
more, or maybe not.

In the gray
morning light,

everything looked
completely different.

Candles from Urban Outfitter,
dirty laundry, a pizza box.

Suddenly,
reality hit.

I'm in a twenty-something
apartment.

Morning, babe.

Morning.

Fuck! I had
this amazing dream.

My father and my ex-girlfriend
were, like, dead or something.

Hey, how you doing?

It's good to see you.

Coffee.
I need coffee.

Yeah, it's in the,
in the kitchen.

And I had
these big hands!

Like big
aluminum hands.

And I lived in this, like,
big missile silo that was

totally nuclear and it
was surrounded by, like,

my enemies and shit, and
one by one, they'd run at me.

I mean, they got
inside somehow.

I don't
remember, but...

they would
like run at me

and I would crush them to pieces
with my big aluminum hands.

I, like, I crushed
this one guy.

He had no face and stuff,
but I crushed him.

I could crush anything with
these big fucking hands, man.

-You don't have any coffee--

You don't have
any coffee filters.

Oh, I'll make that.
That's alright.

Oh!

You were in the dream.

As this beautiful
unicorn woman

with glass eyes.

You, coffee.
Me, bathroom.

Yeah. That'd make a kick-ass
song, wouldn't it?

♪ Unicorn woman ♪

-Coffee.
-♪ Ooo, ooo, ooo ♪

Oh, that's
my roommate.

Every fiber in my
thirty-something being

was screaming, "Get out.
You're too old for this."

And just when I thought
I couldn't sink any lower...

I need
toilet paper!

I'm just using the last
of it to make the coffee.

I decided the only way
to break free was to move from
one addiction

to an even
bigger one.

Shoes.

A couple of blocks and
way too much money later,

I realized I had just entered an
interesting chapter in my life.

I had outgrown
the boys of my past

and not quite grown into
the men of my future.

Hey!

Hi.

Hello.
-Hi, how are ya?

Why is it in a city
of ten million men,

you always see the
one you don't want

and never see
the one you--

Hi.

Hi.

What are you
doing down there?

Oh, it's a
wobbly table.

Guess I have
the touch.

Would you care
to join us?

Hinge.

-What?
Your crossword puzzle.

Five letter word, to bring
together. Hinge.

Well,
nice seeing you.

-Bye.
-Bye.

Excuse me.

Uh, hey, just
so you know, uh...

I would have gotten
"hinge" on my own.

Maybe.

I have no doubt.

Now that I've got Jack
hooked up, I'm single again.

Maybe we could
have dinner sometime?

Hmm.
I don't know.

I'm good at
crossword puzzles.

I'm just not so good
at people puzzles.

Anywhere you want.

Just you and me.

Call me.

As I walked away,

maybe all men
are a drug.

Sometimes they
bring you down

and sometimes, like now,
they get you so high.

Damn... It would have been so
cool if I hadn't looked back.