Hey there, it seems like somebody (other than the ever-fabulous Brady, praise be unto him) is finally getting some action on this Sex and the City revival! Imagine a steamy version of Clue: Enter Miranda Hobbes, heating things up in Carrie's kitchen, with Che and tequila as their passionate accomplices! Now, how did this steamy encounter come about? It all ties back to Carrie's hip woes. After all, she's in her 50s now, folks!
Carrie's been gallivanting around town with her new BFF Seema when the latter insists on paying a visit to her apartment. Alas, Carrie struggles to ascend the stairs without resorting to using an umbrella-cum-cane. She self-diagnoses with "old lady back" but insists she'll be just fine. Seema, ever the practical one, disagrees and promptly calls her cousin, an orthopedic surgeon, securing Carrie an appointment within the hour. Seema's truly a gem: she's got direct access to orthopedic experts, can whip up a team to fix water stains on your ceiling within a day's notice, and rocks head-to-toe satin outfits (does she don a bib while dining? As a mere mortal, I'm left with countless questions about her lifestyle). She's simply fabulous.
Carrie learns that her ailment is not "old lady back" but a congenital hip defect, requiring surgery for correction. Understandably, she's apprehensive about undergoing the procedure alone — though that was never really an option in the first place. Carrie barely schedules the surgery when Charlotte's already got a spreadsheet ready, ensuring that she, Miranda, or Anthony will be by Carrie's side around the clock during her recovery. Honestly, the only thing she has to fret about now is the temporary ban on heels — a true ordeal for Carrie Bradshaw.
Post-surgery, Carrie, adorned in pearls and a sensible cardigan, is flanked by Charlotte and Miranda. While Charlotte's busy assisting Carrie with her post-op bathroom business — seemingly born for such tasks — Miranda takes a call from Che, who's at the hospital to visit Carrie. Miranda invites them up but is promptly halted by Carrie, still occupying the throne, declaring it a terrible idea. So, Miranda and Che find themselves lunching together in the hospital cafeteria. Over their meal, Che opens up about feeling ensnared for most of their life and how liberating it is to finally embrace their true selves. Miranda, no stranger to feeling trapped herself — hence her exit from her law firm — can be seen feeling inspired by Che's revelations, contemplating how to apply that same sense of freedom to other facets of her life.
Certainly! Here's a more expressive and vivid rendition of the given passage:
A few days hence, Che's arrival at Carrie's apartment with a professional microphone (for their at-home podcasting endeavors, you understand) and a bottle of tequila found her clearly inspired. However, Carrie was already out cold, her system laden with painkillers. Hence, it was Miranda who, after a quick touch-up in the bathroom, greeted Che at the door and eagerly agreed to their proposed tequila shots. One shot soon led to several, and the kitchen atmosphere grew increasingly flirtatious. So charged was the air that Miranda dared Che to take another pull from their shared shotgun. Before long, the playful sipping escalated into a passionate make-out session, which quickly culminated in Che giving Miranda an orgasm like never before. An afternoon well spent, indeed!
Regrettably, Che and Miranda's half-hearted attempts to muffle their escapades and keep Carrie in blissful ignorance proved futile. Carrie awoke mid-deed, catching the entire spectacle in the mirror's reflection and forced to endure the spectacle in silence. When nature's call finally beckoned, and with her would-be escort otherwise engaged, Carrie was left with no choice but to relieve herself in a Snapple bottle—which she promptly spilled onto her bedsheets. Hardly the picturesque recovery scenario Carrie had envisioned.
Post-Che's departure, a confrontation between Carrie and Miranda was inevitable. Miranda attributed it all to the tequila, prompting Carrie to finally take Charlotte's suspicion seriously—that Miranda might have a drinking problem. Miranda conceded that she had indeed increased her intake during the pandemic but insisted she would know if it were a genuine issue and would halt it immediately. Carrie countered by reminding Miranda of her marital status, amidst the sexual escapade in her kitchen. Though hypocritical coming from Carrie, her point carried weight, given her painkiller-induced haze and urine-soaked state. More importantly, it served as a catalyst for Miranda to unload years of pent-up frustration. She confessed to being unhappy in her marriage and life, with nothing fulfilling her anymore. As for her encounter with Che, "I've never felt like that in my life," Miranda admitted to her friend, a raw and honest revelation.
Back at home, still riding high from her time with Che, Miranda tuned into his podcast and mixed herself a drink. An email notification from Amazon then dropped a bombshell—Miranda had drunkenly purchased a book on quitting drinking and hadn't even remembered it. Clearly, she had recognized her drinking as a problem but had forgotten her own realization. If that wasn't a red flag, nothing was! Without hesitation, Miranda poured all her alcohol down the drain, embodying the phrase "quit like a woman" in her own unique way. Whether it proves that easy remains to be seen, especially when she confesses her infidelity to Steve.
Amidst the burgeoning romance of Miranda and Che, another significant stride forward unfolds in the bond between Carrie and Samantha. Post-surgery, Carrie, fueled by the euphoria of painkillers, decides to capture her podcast essence, believing that podcasting is indeed a way of life. During this impromptu session, she shares an intimate anecdote from her past, recounting the moment her dear friend, Samantha Jones (for those keeping score, it was season two, episode six), had to rescue her diaphragm from an unexpected vaginal sojourn. And yes, she does mention Samantha's full moniker with unabashed candor.
Charlotte, a silent observer of this candid revelation, gently suggests to Carrie that perhaps a heads-up to Samantha wouldn't hurt. Initially defiant, Carrie adopts the mantra, "My vagina, my story," but eventually concedes, opting to send a text to her estranged friend. To Carrie's surprise, Samantha's response is swift—her first message in an indeterminable length of time—jestingly branding the incident as "one of my finest hours" and expressing gladness that Carrie's "vagina is finally getting its fifteen minutes of fame." When Carrie, hoping to rekindle their friendship, adds an "I miss you," she is met with the haunting ellipsis, which eventually vanishes without further communication. It seems Carrie may have overreached, but still, this marks a tentative step in the right direction, doesn't it?
However, one can't help but wonder about the trajectory of this storyline sans Kim Cattrall's involvement in the revival. Could an unplanned jaunt to London serve as a dramatic conclusion, bridging the gap left by her absence?
