Embarking on "And Just Like That…" is akin to welcoming chaos into one's life. And hey, as last week's episode so aptly demonstrated, chaos, when executed well, can be a hoot. Yet, this week's installment, titled "Carrie Golightly," seems to embrace structural disarray with an almost defiant flair — why clutter our precious 44 minutes with a multitude of half-baked narratives? Was it truly necessary to revisit the overused Giuseppe-with-a-colossal-hog joke, made all the more transparent through the Hot Fellas denim onesie gag? The actual content, meanwhile,induced a serious case of narcolepsy. Barely three episodes in, the long-distance love affair has already begun to drag every other facet into its wake. Carrie appears…well, rather melancholic, doesn't she? One can't help but wonder what Samantha Jones would have made of Carrie's tolerance for this mess. With no friends left to prod her into shape, what could've been a semi-decent experience is swiftly unraveling.
Carrie agrees to participate in an author event in Williamsburg, Virginia, using it as a pretext to…catch a casual lunch with Aidan, all without appearing clingy or desperate for his company. She yearns to maintain her independence, striving for an "easy-breezy" vibe. She's merely passing through Virginia, you see, and popping in for a leisurely lunch before continuing her journey. Her friends, understandably, find this notion absurd. Miranda, in particular, unleashes a barrage of witty barbs, but Carrie's plea for mercy, emphasizing how "really hard" this all is, silences her, prompting Miranda to apologize. To this, I cry out with genuine exasperation: boo!!! More people ought to mock Carrie for this absurdity! Perhaps it might jar some sense into her. Alas, no such enlightenment ensues.
The plot almost gathers momentum when Aidan's ex-wife, Kathy, calls out of the blue, imploring Carrie to bring Adderall for Wyatt due to a shortage, claiming she has no one else to turn to. Absurd on countless levels, this request nonetheless leads Charlotte and LTW to reveal that the Upper East Side moms are moonlighting as drug dealers — "the playground has turned into D.C. in the '80s!" — and Charlotte's subsequent acquisition of pills for Carrie's trip is nothing short of hilarious. "AJLT" should absolutely embrace Charlotte's potential as a drug lord. Mostly, however, this segment of the "Carrie Goes to Virginia" saga spins its wheels, merely reminding us of Carrie Bradshaw's innate narcissistic vibe. Aidan's reaction as Carrie hands him the bag of pills at episode's end hints at more to come regarding the Adderall request, so until then…
Elsewhere, Seema joins Carrie on her trip following an infuriating revelation at work: her boss, Elliot, springs the surprise that he's actually 90 years old — "a gay 90 is a straight 70," he jokes — and plans to retire without discussing succession plans with Seema, as he had promised, instead selling his shares to NYC real estate broker and Bravo celebrity Ryan Serhant. Fuming, Seema laments having to play second fiddle to yet another man. She deserves her name on the company's door. She's slaved away tirelessly — she should be calling the shots.
In delightful twist for Seema, as she drops by Carrie's place en route to the airport, she bumps into Adam, the charming landscaper. Initially, I'd surmised his presence was meant to stir Carrie's passions, but instead, it's Adam and Seema who indulge in some overtly flirtatious banter, despite Adam's less-than-subtle "Home of the Whopper" sleeveless tee. When Carrie entrusts Adam with ensuring Shoe doesn't bolt while she's away, and he replies with a wink aimed solely at Seema, "Don't worry, I never met a kitty I couldn't bend to my will," the comment resonated deeply within me.
Despite my conviction that Seema wouldn't deign to fly economy anywhere, she and Carrie journey to Virginia. Their time there revolves largely around the mantra, "If you don't ask, you don't get." Seema vacillates between striking out on her own, establishing her own brokerage firm and becoming her own boss, or shirking such a bold risk by working under the new guy. Carrie wisely notes that Seema hasn't even inquired with Ryan about potential partnership—a potential avenue to retain her current position while still making her mark on the company.
Carrie, meanwhile, grapples with the necessity of being more straightforward with Aidan. Confounded by his failure to invite her to stay over despite her long journey, she finds herself in a tizzy. Seema astutely suggests that Carrie's efforts to appear "easy-breezy" might have conveyed a lack of interest in staying. Perhaps Aidan is merely respecting her space. If she desires to share the Virginia night with Aidan, she must vocalize her wish.
Of the two friends, only one secures her heart's desire. A rental car fiasco ensues on their way to meet Aidan—Carrie's license expired unnoticed in 2017, and Seema, a formidable force behind the wheel, inadvertently cruises over traffic spikes. Seema's bid for partnership is promptly shot down by Ryan. Spotting the "Don't back up!" sign in the parking lot, meant to warn her of the spikes, she interprets it as a divine nudge to push ahead. In that instant, she resolves to forge her own path, refusing to settle as anyone's second-in-command.
Aidan arrives as their knight in shining armor, offering them a ride. Carrie remarks that lunch has turned into quite an adventure, to which Aidan concurs. He invites her to stay the night, and Carrie's elation knows no bounds. All that anxiety for naught, or so it seems.
Yet, as is typical with Aidan, there's always a catch. Pulling up to his house, he reveals that he and his children have a rule of discussing the next day's events for stability—or whatever his rationale may be. He hesitates to spring Carrie on his kids unannounced. Instead, he proposes she stay in the guest house. Must this man really ask her to sequester herself away? Couldn't he stay in the guest house and greet his children early? Couldn't he introduce Carrie to his kids before she descends the stairs? It feels as though numerous less humiliating alternatives exist, yet he chooses to stash her away. Carrie must swiftly learn to assert herself and her desires if this relationship is to prosper.
