You knew it was inevitable; a matter of when, not if, "And Just Like That…" would weave a self-deprecating quip involving Christopher Jackson's tenure as Hamilton's George Washington. They simply couldn't resist the temptation! Truthfully, the manner in which it unfolded surpassed even my wildest dreams, for it wasn't merely a fleeting joke—Jackson, ever the sport, donned the upper half of a George Washington costume, complete with a powdered wig, while portraying Herbert during a historical-themed lovemaking session with LTW. Indeed, the conversation hinted at the impending British invasion. And strangely enough, I didn't detest it!
Now, let's set the record straight: This wasn't just any ordinary Tuesday evening where LTW and Herbert indulged in their usual sexy George Washington cosplay. Or perhaps it was? Or maybe it ought to be? More powdered wigs in intimate settings, I urge! In reality, Herb had this costume at the ready because, surprisingly, it was Halloween! Why not, indeed! To recap: It was still the heart of summer, yet Halloween had arrived for significant reasons—perhaps to mark Herbert's election drawing near? To showcase fabulous fall outerwear for the ladies? Definitely to crack a savage joke at Brady's expense about their house already being eerie enough. And quite possibly to kickstart the Charlotte-Harry storyline that necessitated dressing up as Elizabeth and Phillip Jennings from "The Americans." Though, my two favorite eccentric souls could have pulled that off regardless of the calendar, and I'd have been on board. Regardless, Halloween meant Charlotte and Harry were hosting a costume-party fundraiser, the rationale for which they never truly disclosed, and honestly, who cares?
As for the costumes, aside from the York-Goldenblatts embodying the Jenningses, LTW wowed in a Bride of Frankenstein ensemble; Nya scorched the room as Catwoman; Carrie, in a move as uninspired as it was quintessentially Carrie, "dressed up" as Cosmopolitan's first editor-in-chief, Helen Gurley Brown; Seema opted out of dressing up, dare I say; and Miranda slipped on a red clown nose, billing herself as "the comic disaster that is my life," and you know what? I admire her self-awareness.
The highlight of the party, however, was our trio of singleton ladies—Seema, Nya, and Carrie—agreeing to hit up a five-star hotel bar in search of some action, thanks to Seema's suggestion. It was a monumental step for newly single Nya, horny and struggling to meet men, and for Carrie, seemingly ready to embrace casual sex once more. Even Miranda was taken aback.
Unfortunately for Carrie, the expedition bore no fruit—but both Nya and Seema struck gold. Well, at least Nya enjoyed what seemed like an incredibly satisfying one-night stand. Nya felt vibrant, alive. Seema, conversely, went home with a gin brand ambassador (a red flag, perhaps?) who seemed charming at first but, after confiding in her about his erectile dysfunction, pulled out a penis pump. Seema was cool with it, if only for the "B+ sex." However, during their second encounter, when Seema reached for her vibrator to finish, the gin guy wasn't amused. Seema promptly showed him the door. She deserved better than mere B+ sex, anyway.
The episode's main narrative thread, however, is punctuated by an unexpected twist thanks to that penis pump. After Seema's initial encounter with the device, she eagerly rings Carrie the following morning, embarking on one of the quintessential chapters of friendship—the exhilarating "you'll never believe what happened to me last night" phone call. If you've never experienced such a conversation, my friends, you're truly missing out on a vital piece of camaraderie. Stunned by the revelation, Carrie abruptly halts in her tracks, conveniently positioned in the middle of a bustling bike lane. A harried cyclist yells at her to clear the way, but overwhelmed by the bicycle's proximity and the penis pump's aftermath (a lot to take in all at once!), she stands frozen. The cyclist, unfortunately, ends up colliding with her. To her astonishment, he turns out to be toweringly tall and strikingly handsome (enter Peter Hermann, stage left!). Carrie sputters in a tangle of embarrassment and sorrow, while the cyclist, though thoroughly annoyed, accepts her offer to accompany him and his bike to the nearest urgent care facility, which appears to be a haunt frequently frequented by the Olsen twins—who knew?
At the urgent care, patient intake forms become the conduit through which Carrie crosses paths with George Campbell. Agitated for myriad reasons, George is particularly pressed for time due to an impending major deadline. He and his business partner, Paul, who FaceTimes George from the waiting room, are desperately trying to sell an app. The big presentation is in two days—a whirlwind of activity and intensity!
Misreading the situation entirely, Carrie assumes George's desperation and a minor snafu with his credit card indicate dire straits. A man of their age, worried about an app and cycling? He must be struggling financially! Moved by pity, Carrie fears she might have jeopardized his livelihood and ponders writing him a check to alleviate his woes. Instead, she opts to bring him lunch the next day and offer her wrists to assist with his presentation. Little does Carrie realize, upon arriving at his palatial apartment, that George Campbell is far from destitute. A seasoned veteran in the tech industry, this is his and Paul's fourth app they've sold. Passionate about his work and recently the victim of credit card fraud, George is also quite taken with Carrie's functional wrists. Predictably, their attraction blossoms into a kissing session.
Despite the wrist issue (though it's hard to fault him given his pain medication), George seems promising. But, of course, there's always a catch. George's achilles' heel reveals itself in the form of a relentless "work wife"—damn you, Paul! With a disapproving countenance, Paul crashes Carrie and George's kissing session and, later, interrupts their post-first-date bedroom escapades via FaceTime—and George answers, revealing Carrie by his side! Carrie does her utmost to conceal herself when George abruptly leaves Paul on the phone beside her, but eventually, she has to creep away silently to avoid an excruciatingly awkward conversation about Paul's supposedly benign intentions and the presentation's importance. If this is any indication of their future together, Carrie is not interested. She informs George, albeit more like yelling in the vastness of his comically large apartment, that she's not keen on being the third wheel in their relationship. She departs, leaving behind a budding romance that fizzled out quicker than expected. Yet, it serves as a resounding signal that Carrie Bradshaw is fully back in the dating arena. This bodes well for her and even better for us as viewers.
Hopefully, she'll recall the arduous nature of dating. Should she require a reminder, she need only observe her friend Miranda's predicament. During their family therapy session last week, Steve generously offered to relocate, allowing Miranda to stay in their shared home with Brady. Yet, months have slipped by, and Steve's search for a new abode remains unfinished, forcing Miranda into a relentless routine: spending nights at Che's, dashing back to Brooklyn early each morning to be with Brady, and then heading to Columbia for classes. Exhaustion wears her down. Compounding the issue, Che's schedule is a world apart from hers, ensuring that neither gets the rest they desperately need.
Nya steps in with a proposal: Miranda can temporarily use a spare room at her place until Steve vacates the premises. Throughout recent episodes, Miranda has found herself unable to broach any subject with Steve, believing the collapse of their family rests solely on her shoulders. However, this silence seems destined to become an ineffective strategy in the long run. Inevitably, a confrontation between Miranda and Steve looms on the horizon. But for now, our focus shifts to the clash between Miranda and Che.
Here's the crux: No one should ever endure the torment of witnessing a focus group dissect their life and work right before their eyes. It's a harrowing spectacle, one that Che, almost whimsically, consents to experience firsthand during the network's pilot testing. Initially, all seems well—Tony Danza wins everyone's hearts. But soon, the session turns into a verbal onslaught against Che. Most painful is when a gender-queer participant echoes Che's fears about the pilot—deeming it a performative, "bogus depiction of the nonbinary experience." Others chime in with criticism, piling on the pressure. Did this scene strike a chord, mirroring our real-world tendency to criticize Che? Perhaps, fleetingly—season one Che was, admittedly, unbearable. Yet, I stand by my sentiment wholeheartedly!
The pilot is officially dead on arrival. Miranda seethes with anger on Che's behalf, yet words fail her in comforting them. Despite this, she persists—perhaps too persistently. Che snaps at her, pleading for her to stop, explaining that her words do nothing to alleviate their pain. They're terrified about their future, their finances, and the impact on their career (Sara Ramirez delivers a standout performance here, evoking real Grey's Anatomy vibes). Che needs solitude to process it all. They request space from Miranda, who seems hurt by the rejection. Clearly, these two are not in sync. Perhaps Nya's spare room has opened up at precisely the right moment.
