Embarking on an episode of "And Just Like That…" is akin to diving headfirst into a whirlwind of chaos. And hey, as last week's installment aptly demonstrated, chaos, when wielded correctly, can indeed be an entertaining spectacle. Yet, this week's "Carrie Golightly" somehow manages to encapsulate structural disarray in its purest form – why are we left with a slew of half-baked storylines muddying our precious 44 minutes? Did we really require another round of the tired Giuseppe-with-a-hog joke, rendered all the more unfunny through the medium of a Hot Fellas denim onesie? Moreover, the episode stumbled into a lullaby of monotony concerning its actual content. We're merely three episodes deep, yet this long-distance romance fiasco is already dragging everything and everyone down into its sorry wake. Carrie appears… despondent, doesn't she? One can't help but wonder what Samantha Jones would have thought; she certainly wouldn't condone Carrie's tolerance for such nonsense. With no friends left to give her a reality check, Carrie's descent into mediocrity is truly lamentable.
Carrie decides to embrace an invitation for an author event in Williamsburg, Virginia, using it as a clever pretext to… share a lunch with Aidan without seeming clingy or desperate for his company. She doesn't want to encroach upon his personal space; she strives for an "effortless breeziness." It's just a coincidence that she happens to be in Virginia, popping in for lunch before continuing her journey. Her friends, particularly Miranda, ridicule this notion, but Carrie, pleading for empathy, insists that this endeavor is "genuinely challenging." To this, I cry out with all my heart: shame on you! More people ought to mock Carrie for this folly! Perhaps then, some sense might penetrate into her. Alas, reason remains elusive.
The narrative takes a near-turn for the intriguing when Aidan's ex-wife, Kathy, calls out of the blue, bizarrely requesting that Carrie bring Adderall for Wyatt due to a shortage, as she has nowhere else to turn. This request defies logic on numerous fronts, but it does prompt Charlotte and LTW to inform the rest of the gang about the Upper East Side moms moonlighting as drug dealers – "the playground has transformed into a redux of D.C. in the '80s" – and Charlotte's subsequent acquisition of pills for Carrie's trip is nothing short of hilarious. "AJLT" should wholeheartedly transform Charlotte into a drug lord. Mostly, however, this segment of "Carrie Goes to Virginia" goes nowhere substantial, save for reminding us of Carrie Bradshaw's unintended knack for narcotic-related escapades. Aidan's reaction as Carrie hands him the bag of pills at the episode's climax hints at more to come regarding the Adderall request, so until then!
In delightful news for Seema, as she stops by Carrie's place en route to the airport, she unexpectedly encounters Adam, the charming landscaper. Initially, I had suspected his presence was intended to stir up some heat between him and Carrie, but it was actually Adam and Seema who indulged in some overtly flirtatious banter, despite Adam's less-than-chic attire of a sleeveless "Home of the Whopper" tee. When Carrie entrusts Adam with ensuring that Shoe doesn't escape during her absence, his reply, "Don't worry, I never met a kitty I couldn't bend to my will," as his gaze lingered on Seema, sent shivers down my spine.
Though it's unimaginable in any universe that Seema would travel economy, she and Carrie make it to Virginia, where they spend most of their time reminding each other of the golden rule: "If you don't ask, you don't get." Seema finds herself torn between striking out on her own and establishing her own brokerage group, or shying away from such a risk and working under the new guy. Carrie wisely points out that Seema hasn't even inquired with Ryan about the possibility of partnership—a way to remain where she is yet still make her mark on the company.
On the flip side, Carrie needs to be more direct with Aidan. She's in a tizzy, puzzled by why Aidan didn't invite her to stay over, given the distance she's traveled. Seema wisely suggests that perhaps Carrie's attempt to project an "easy-breezy" demeanor conveyed that she didn't desire to stay. Maybe Aidan is merely respecting her space. If she wants to share the night in Virginia with Aidan, she needs to speak up.
In the end, only one of our gals secures her heart's desire. Following a disastrous incident with their rental car on the way to meet Aidan—Carrie's license expired in 2017 unnoticed, and Seema, a reckless driver, inadvertently cruises over traffic spikes—Seema receives a resounding no from Ryan about becoming a partner. Seeing the sign in the parking lot, meant to warn against driving over the spikes—'Don't back up!'—she interprets it as a divine sign urging her to forge ahead. She decides then and there that she will not be anyone's second-in-command. Seema is determined to venture out on her own.
Elsewhere, Seema decides to accompany Carrie on her trip, prompted by infuriating news at work: her boss, Elliot, reveals a shocking revelation – he's actually 90 years old ("a gay 90 is a sprightly 70," he quips) and is retiring without discussing succession plans with Seema, as he had promised. Instead, he sells his shares to NYC real estate mogul and Bravo celebrity Ryan Serhant. Seema is livid, feeling betrayed by the prospect of once again being someone else's second-in-command. She deserves her name on the company's masthead; she's slaved away tirelessly – she should be the one calling the shots.
Aidan arrives like a knight in shining armor, offering them a ride, and Carrie can't help but remark that this gesture seems overly grand for just a lunch outing. Aidan, acknowledging her point, invites her to extend her stay through the night. Carrie's heart leaps with joy, thinking all her earlier担忧s were for naught. Or, almost. As is typical with Aidan, there's always a catch.
As they pull up to his house, he reveals a household tradition: he and his children review their upcoming day's agenda for a sense of stability and routine. He hesitates to introduce Carrie to his kids without warning, suggesting instead that she stay in the guest house. Is he seriously asking her to cloister herself away? Couldn't he have opted to stay in the guest house himself and rise early to brief his children? Or, couldn't he have welcomed Carrie into his room, introducing her before she descended the stairs? It strikes her that there are numerous, far less embarrassing alternatives than sequestering her outside the main house. Carrie's got to start asserting herself and her needs soon; otherwise, this relationship might never gain solid footing.
