All language subtitles for Sex.and.the.City.S02E04.They.Shoot.Single.People.Dont.They.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-

In life, certain events
come along so rarely,

that when they do,

special attention must be paid.

Events like Halley's comet,
solar eclipses,

getting that
second latte for free.

And one night at a salsa club

in very downtown Manhattan,

four single girlfriends
all found themselves

without a relationship
at the exact same time.

She's not bad.

Here's to us, without men.

-Wooh!
Here, here.

I'm not toasting
to that, it's bad luck.

Ha!

If I end up old and alone,
it's all your fault.

Oh, Charlotte, sweetie,
we're all alone,

even when we're with men.

Yeah, you tell her, Mr. Sister.

My advice to you,
is to embrace that fact,

slap on some armor
and go through life like I do.

Enjoying men but not expecting
them to fill you up.

Except when, well, you know...

We know, we know, we know.

Excuse me, I was wondering
if you'd like to dance.

Oh, well, thanks, but tonight
it's just us girls.

I'm William,

one of the club owners.

Samantha.

If you ever feel like a dance,
we could have some fun.

I'm impressed,
not dumping us for a guy.

Is that the kind of girl
you think I am?

-Well...
-Oh, you guys, I gotta go,
I'm getting my picture taken

for that magazine
article in the morning.

What magazine article?

All press needs to be
cleared through me.

It's New York Magazine ,

they're doing a profile
of 20 Manhattan singles,

and it's called
"Single and Fabulous".

Why wasn't I picked?

I'm single
and I'm definitely fabulous.

Well, I was picked because
Stanford's new boyfriend,
Nevin...

-Nevin?
-...is the assistant photo
editor.

No, Carrie, you cannot leave,
we never go dancing.

-Come on, one more drink.
-All right, one drink.

One. One drink.

To hot men.

One drink turned into many,

and before I knew it,

I was dragging my tired,

yet single and fabulous ass
home at dawn.

Ho!

I decided my best bet

to avoid looking like
I'd been up all night

was to stay up all morning.

It's Stanford,
you're 40 minutes late.

I'm at the photo shoot
and everyone's freaking out!

I'm there, 20 minutes.

-20 minutes?
-I said 20 minutes!

Oh, God, I could not get a cab.

So what did you do,

grab on to a bumper
and let one drag you here?

Oh, stop, I was up all night.

And I need a coffee
the size of my head.

Um, Carrie, this is Nevin.

Oh, gosh, hi.

Stanford has told me
so much about you.

It's really nice
to finally meet you.

Hello, you're about
a fucking month late!

Follow me.

-Jesus!
-Don't look at me,

you're the one who's about
a fucking month late.

My poncho!

-Hi, I am so, so sorry.
-It's fine.

-Could you sit?
-Sure.

Oh, we're gonna-- There's gonna
be time for makeup, right?

-Yeah.
-Thank God!

I just wanna do a few test shots

before I check the lighting.

Hey, coffee, please.

Oh, do you mind if I smoke?

I don't care if you shoot up.

Listen, I never
keep people waiting.

I just-- I got to bed
really late last night.

And it's my personal belief,
I lapsed into a coma. Mmm.

-Oh, thank you.
-They only had decaf.

What?

Being single
and fabulous

also frees up one's weekends.

Saturdays usually spent
browsing with him in SoHo

are left to more practical
things like power walking

with your single
and fabulous girlfriends.

We're walking
way too slow.

We're not burning off anything.

Let's gossip to get
our heart rates up.

Hey, Miranda.

Josh, hey, hi, how are you?

Good, great,
training for the marathon.

Right, right,
I forgot you do that.

Five years in a row.

Well, you got my number,
so, give me a call.

Cute, who's that?

An ophthalmologist
I once faked orgasms with.

Okay, we're
officially stopping...

The idea that Miranda
would fake anything

stopped me cold.

I only slept with him twice.

The first time I faked it

because it was
never gonna happen.

And the second time
I had to fake it because
I faked it the first time.

Oh, naturally.

And I didn't wanna
fake it again,

so I forgot
to return his last call.

You broke up with an
ophthalmologist over that?

Orgasm, major thing
in a relationship?

Yeah, but not the only thing.

Orgasms don't send you
Valentine's day cards,

and they don't hold your hand
in a sad movie.

Mine do.

You're seriously
advocating faking?

No, but if you
really like the guy,

what's one little
moment of "ooh, ooh",

versus spending the whole
night in bed alone?

These are my options?

And who's to say that one moment

is any more important
than when he gets up

and pours you a cup
of coffee in the morning?

Let's go!

I'll take an orgasm

over a cup of French drip
Colombian any day.

See, for me, it's a toss-up.

Hey, the usual, please.

Having smoked
all my cigarettes

during our workout,

I stopped for fresh
supplies when...

There I was.

Hanging right next to
Martha Stewart Living.

Carrie Bradshaw,
dying of embarrassment.

"Single and Fabulous",
question mark?

There was no
question mark implied.

I would never have agreed
to be in an article

"Single and Fabulous",
question mark.

-I was set up.
-Oh, I agree.

You're single,
fabulous, and fucked.

Not after that picture,
I won't be.

They said "Single and Fabulous"
exclamation point.

They did not say
"Single and Fabulous"
question mark.

That question mark is hostile.

Miranda, can't we
sue them or something?

For what, mispunctuation?

It's too late to sue.
I'm all over
the city looking like,

like something that got
caught in a drain.

Okay, you know what?
I just quit smoking.

"Single was fun
at 20.

But you wanna ask these women,

how fun will all night
club hopping be at 40?"

-Who's out all night?
-Who's 40?

Do you know what I say?

Fuck them, exclamation point.

Fuck them!

Yeah, fuck them!

Charlotte said fuck.

Every couple
of years,

an article like this
surfaces as a cautionary tale

to scare young women
into marriage.

Oh, I'm a cautionary tale?
Shoot me.

"Filling their lives
with an endless parade

of decoys and distractions
to avoid the painful fact

that they're completely alone."

How is that helping?

This piece of trash has nothing,

I repeat, nothing to do with us.

Exactly, we are single
and fabulous.

Absolutely.

But I had
a sneaking suspicion

they didn't quite believe it.

Somehow, the question mark
had leapt off my cover

and onto each of them,

because, within a week...

Ooh, oh!

Miranda met Josh
for old time's sake.

Oh. Oh!

Samantha met William
for a dance.

And Charlotte met
a deadline head on.

So, I'm moving
to Salt Lake City.

What? Why?

The acting thing in New York
is definitely not happening,
you know...

I have a chance to get
on a Christian soap opera

if I move out west.

Wow, a Christian soap opera?

Yeah.

"The Days of our Mormon Lives"
or some shit.

Hand me the receiver cable.

The... jeez.

What are you gonna do
around here without me?

Tom was an out of work
actor friend

Charlotte had come to depend on
to do the occasional male things

she needed done
around her apartment.

Because he was
an out of work actor,

he had a lot of time.

And because
he had a lot of time,

he had a lot of tools.

Okay, that is the VCR.

After I rewire your lamp,
I'm out of here.

Unless you have something
else you need done.

Charlotte
made a decision.

She decided she wasn't
gonna let her Mr. Fix-it
get away.

While women are certainly
no strangers to faking it,

we faked our hair color,
cup-size, hell,

we've even faked fur,

I couldn't help but wonder,

has fear of being alone

suddenly raised
the bar on faking?

Are we faking more than
orgasms?

Are we faking
entire relationships?

Is it better
to fake it than be alone?

Well, you know, my boyfriend
and I were really compatible.

Except for one thing.

He liked thin, blond,
waspy types, so...

Now I am.

I think my wife's an idiot.

Every day with her

is like a trip to idiot island.

I don't tell her
how I really feel.

I'm pretty sure she'd leave me.

I don't understand
sign language.

A glamorous city
like New York

offers a sea of single
and fabulous things

for the fabulous
and single to do.

As long as that magazine's
on the newsstand,

I'm not going out in public

for fear of being scorned
and chased with sticks.

Hey, one, one!

I'm not smoking.

Look at this,
he climbs on top of her,

and the next thing you know,
she's coming.

No wonder men are so lost.

They have no idea
there's more work involved.

So, still faking it?

-Yep.
-Is he that bad in bed?

No, he's just... he's a guy.

They can rebuild a jet engine,

but when it comes to a woman...

What's the big mystery?

It's my clitoris,
not the sphinx!

I think you just found
the title for your
autobiography.

You know,
it's really not their fault.

They don't come with a manual.

If I had a son,
I'd teach him all
about the vagina.

If you had a son,
we'd call social services.

The other night,
he told me

he really likes that I can come
while he's fucking me.

How can he actually believe
that that's all it takes?

Because you're faking it!

I'm really hating
myself right now.

Could you please
just tell me why?

He's a nice guy. He means well.

Oh, so it's codependent coming.

Oh, well, I have to go.
I got a date.

I'm meeting William after work,
and then, who knows?

But from the way he dances,

I'm fairly certain
I won't have to fake anything.

This is a great club.

Wait until you see my club
in the Hamptons.

Salsa East.

Do you like the Hamptons?

No, love, love the Hamptons.

I'm renting a great house
in East Hampton.

We can go out on the weekends.

We can go sailing,

and cook big old lobsters.

We can walk on the beach.

At first
Samantha listened,

fascinated, detached.

It was rare to hear a man
use the "we" word

so comfortably so early on.

Or we could just lay
around and do this.

Whatever we want.

But pretty soon
she gave in.

She lay back, opened up,
and let the "we" wash over her.

-Hello.
Guess where I'm
spending the summer?

I don't know, Gucci?

East Hampton.

William's renting a house,

and he asked me to spend
the summer with him.

Isn't it a little early?

Honey, no.

All the great places
are taken by January.

No, I mean early
in the relationship.

You should have
heard him last night.

"We" can cook, "we" can swim.

Oh, he's a "we" guy.

Oh, so he's a "we" guy,
who cares?

We are going to spend
the summer in East Hampton

and the "we" I'm referring to
right now,

is you and me.

They say that
every great actor

knows when to stop performing.

I'm getting close, come with me.

Oh, come with me.

For Miranda Hobbes,

it was that Saturday night
at exactly 10:40.

Ooh! Come with...

Ohhh...

Oh, God.

Wow.

Hey, is everything all right?

Mm-hmm.

Are you sure?

'Cause you didn't cum.

Did you?

-No.
-Oh.

Did I do something
wrong tonight?

'Cause, I mean,
you came every other time.

What?
Hey, tell me.

Well, I didn't exactly cum
all those other times.

You faked it?

Well, how many
of the other times?

All of the other times?

Oh, do you have like a physical
problem or something?

Me?
What makes you assume it's me?

Oh, no offense, it's just...

Nobody I've ever slept with
has had to, you know, fake it.

You know,
a lot of women fake it,

and up until five minutes ago,

you didn't know that
I was faking it, so...

Well,
what are you saying?

All the women I've ever slept
with have been faking it?

What are you looking at?

Nothing. I was just running
a list in my head.

Look, Josh, a woman's anatomy
is a little more complicated--

Hey, hey, I know all about
a woman's anatomy.

I'm a doctor.

You're an eye doctor.

Okay, give me some tips.

-Pardon me?
-Tips, tips to get you off.

I am nobody's charity case.

I run the marathon
for Christ's sake.

Okay, well, do you know
how the clitoris works?

-Yes.
-Do you know where it is?

-Yes.
-Well, it's about two inches

from where you think it is.

Oh, my God.

Relax, I'll show you.

Later that week,

I went over to Charlotte's

to see some of Tom's handiwork.

So after we finish
in here with the lighting,

we're gonna start
in on the kitchen,

we're gonna re-tile everything.

First Samantha
and now Charlotte went

"we", "we", "we",
all about her home.

Well, that's amazing!

How are you gonna get
all that done before you leave?

-I'm not leaving.
-Oh.

I've decided to stay.

I have to go over to my place
and get a voltmeter.

-All right?
-Okay.

I'll be right back, okay?

Bye, honey.

"Bye, honey"?

Yeah.

When he told me he was leaving,

I suddenly had all
these feelings,

like, what if he was the one?

He'd been right under
my nose the entire time

and I'd never even seen him.

I let the whole, "almost 40,
out of work actor thing"

get in the way.

But Carrie, he is strong,
and masculine,

and he can fix things
around the house.

Charlotte, you can't
create a relationship

with a guy just because
he can caulk your tub.

Yes, you can.

As I walked home,
I couldn't help but wonder,

when did being alone become
the modern-day equivalent

of being a leper?

Will Manhattan restaurants

soon be divided up
into sections?

Smoking, non-smoking,
single, non-single?

Yeah, the usual, please.

And then I had
a frightening thought.

Maybe I was the one
who was faking it.

All these years faking to myself
that I was happy being single.

Yes, it's me.

And there it was, pity.

Pity from the man who sells me
my Marlboro Lights.

It was the final straw.

I decided I wasn't
gonna let a magazine,

or my friends,
or the surgeon general

stop me from being who I was,

single and fabulous,
exclamation point.

-Tartini?
-Excuse me?

Tartini,
cranberry-flavored vodka.

-Tartini.
-Oh, Christ.

I've been out of commission
for four days,
there's a new drink?

I'd invited Stanford
to join me

at a fabulous party downtown

to honor the fabulous
conceptual photographer,

Ellen von Unwerth.

Unfortunately, he invited
his new boyfriend,

Nevin von Bitchy.

Hi, I hate you.

Join the club, I hate me, too.

I'm so sorry about the cover.

-I had nothing to do with it.
-Who cares?

Next week you'll have
a coke-dealing slumlord

on the cover,
and I'll be history.

You are fabulous.

Excuse me.

You realize you're
going to have to dump him.

I can't, we're getting a summer
share in Sagaponack.

Tartini!

While Stanford and I
did downtown...

Samantha was uptown,
waiting for William

at her favorite
romantic restaurant.

Alone?

No, I'm waiting for someone.

At first she thought
she had the wrong time.

But when he still wasn't there
20 minutes later,

she called her machine.

No message.

I don't know what's keeping him.

Could you ask the waiter
to bring me a red wine?

She hadn't expected
to be caught out in public alone

without a book, or a project,

or any of her
dining-out-alone armor.

She had nothing to do
but sit and wait for him.

By now,
she knew that "we" William

wasn't ever going to show up.

He was one of those men
who faked a future

to get what he wanted
in the present.

More water?

No, no more water.

She felt exposed,
vulnerable, like a fool.

Oh!

My God, people are looking.

-I'm so embarrassed.
It's okay, it's okay.

Where's the ladies'...

This way.

Show me the ladies' room.

You okay?

Thank you.
You're very sweet.

I'm not usually like this.

I can't believe I fell
for some guy's line.

But, sometimes you
just need to hear "we".

You know?

Samantha let
the Pakistani busboy kiss her.

After all, he'd been so sweet
and attentive with the bread.

You take me home,
you're not alone.

As Samantha looked
into his sweet and hopeful eyes,

she realized something.

No matter how much it hurts,

sometimes it's better
to be alone than fake it.

Meanwhile, downtown...

I just heard the funniest
thing I'd ever heard

from a man I just met.

Oh, my God.
I'm sorry, oh, your pants...

I'm sorry.

It's fine.
-God, I'm sorry.

Well, fuck you!

Exclamation point.

Okay, you little tartini,
time to go home.

-What?
-You've had enough.

Oh, c'mon, it's early.

It's 2:00 a.m. on a Tuesday.

Oh, Stanford, just go.

Go, go, go home,

take your tired,
fabulous ass home.

I want to meet cute guys.

Everyone here is gay, gay, gay.

I don't think so.

You need a light?

His name was Jake.

He was everything
I was looking for that night.

Single, straight, and a smoker.

There wasn't quite
as much smoke uptown.

How's that?
Ooh! Is that better now?

Oh, how about now,
how about now?

Miranda's two-day tutorial
with her ophthalmologist

had turned lovemaking
into a kind of naked eye exam.

Maybe we should just

try and let it
happen for a second.

-I wanna do it right.
-Yeah.

Oh, oh, how's that, how's that?

Even with all Josh's
good intentions,

Miranda found herself no closer.

She realized she was
not a jet engine.

She was a lot more complicated.

It would never work
between them.

I'm close, I'm close.
Are you close?
I'm close.

She wanted
to give him something

for learning so much
and trying so hard.

So, Miranda came.

She came out of retirement
for one final performance.

-Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

I'm the man.

Oh!

-Hey!
-Hey!

You wanna go
for a ride in my Porsche?

Fabulous.

I need some smokes.

Do you want anything?

I'll be right back.

Hey, how you doing?

I want a pack
of Marlboro Lights.

I looked at myself
in the mirror.

What had I been
so afraid of all week?

I was still young,
still desirable.

I would never wind up alone.

Is this you?

And there it was.

My question mark staring me
right in the face.

Was that me?

And then I realized,
if I went home with him,

it would be the only time
I'd ever slept with a man

to validate my life.

The question mark would
no longer be a question,

it would be a fact.

You know what, I gotta go home.

No way, I'm not letting you out.

Fine.

Charlotte...

I think I should go
to Salt Lake City.

Give it a try.

Oh, no, really?

Charlotte was faking it.

She'd realized two days ago

that while she had no problem

with the idea of faking
orgasms,

she could never fake intimacy.

My heart's still in acting.

I'm not ready to let it go.

Tom was faking, too.

He was mostly just
sick of New York

and needed an excuse to leave.

I'll miss you.

I'll miss you, too.

It was a perfectly
timed double fake.

Under any other circumstances,
they could have shared
a very long life together.

Over the next week,
things pretty much returned
to normal.

Miranda, babe, it's Josh.

I'm home, give me a call.

Miranda forgot
to return Josh's last call.

Samantha made peace
with her feelings

about "we" William,

and Charlotte learned
you don't have to rely

on men's affections

to get things fixed
around the house.

You can pay them.

And as for me,
after I was recycled,

I decided instead
of running away

from the idea of a life alone,

I'd better sit down
and take that fear to lunch.

Waiting for someone?

Oh, no, it's just me.

Thanks.

So, I sat there

and had a glass of wine,

alone.

No books, no man,
no friends, no armor,

no faking.