Big love?…

July 28, 2023August 1, 2023 ~ somethinginthewayshemoves

I’m a women of a certain age. I’ve been proposed to twice, but never married. I’ve gotten lost in crazy love, hurt by the stormy, comfortable in the familiar, heartsick over the not to be me and everything else in between. I think much of the romance has probably been knocked out of me by now.

And then I tune into Carrie & co and have second thoughts. The parts of And just like that I can’t get in step with are the ones that shatter the fantasy. I may be jaded in real life, but my desire for happily ever after persists. Some people enjoy the life like twists, I want no part in the angst.

Unless of course it’s just a stop off on route to joy. I’ll suffer a short detour if it makes the destination sweeter, but I have zero tolerance for wading around mapless. Miranda’s second series arc is killing me. I loved her & Steve. His portrayal as some old sad sack was bad enough. Now he’s cold, manipulative and pathetically shagging randoms. It doesn’t add up. How did we get from tenderly embracing how lucky they were to have each other pre Big’s funeral to their current soulless stalemate? Every time we’re given a glimpse of the love they once had it gets tarnished with a turn of events that feels shoe horned to make this storyline work. Couldn’t we have watched them meet new people, explore new challenges and use what they learned to grow together? Maybe that sounds like an unattainable ideal, but I absolutely do not care. I’ve gone through all the shit with these characters. I want the fluff!

I could have gotten on board if Miranda and Che had been the real deal. Perhaps if the plot had included Steve moving towards healing & accepting that he needed more too. Some respect and affection would have gone a long way. Stale marriage, exciting short lived relationship and ending up sleeping in a single bed in your mates spare room doesn’t cut it. Everyone’s sad. I know my head is filled with rom com nonsense, but I want the pipe dream.

The return of Aidan also gives me the heebie jeebies. Big is gone, obviously Carrie has to move on to drive the drama. I understand going full circle. Big & Aidan are her ‘two big loves’, but come on. He couldn’t get through one evening without getting whiny. Aidan was a nice enough man, but it never felt like he actually wanted Carrie. He wanted a version of her that fitted his needs. Now he’s back and already not happy with her life. Perhaps I’m harsh, I found his little I can’t go back up there hissy fit ridiculous. If you’re not over the past, there can’t be a present. Is Carrie going to have to start pandering to his nonsense again? After colouring outside the lines with her soulmate I can’t help wondering if this is a memory lane best not wandered down.

I want ‘you’re the one’ on Parisian bridges or vowing never to take off one’s wedding ring. Real life is messy enough, let me get my true love vicariously please.

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An ideal husband…

February 23, 2022February 23, 2024 ~ somethinginthewayshemoves

In real life I have discovered that I’m just not the marrying kind. Gone are days of planning what flowers & venue I’d like. Except of course in my fantasies. I know I don’t want the traditional set up in reality, but I could definitely live happily ever after with these fictional husbands.

Frankie Boyle

I’ve taken a tip from Joey & Chandler and gone local. Frankie is Glasgow born & bred. He lives here, we share a cultural background, we would understand each other’s accents. Obviously, he’s hilarious which every woman knows is a knicker dropper. He’s also intelligent, thoughtful & socially conscientious. He gives me good partner vibes. In my mind he is the perfect mix of old school Glasgow & talk weird poetry with you all night guy. Total fantasy husband material.

Bearded, smiling man in thee piece tweed suit

Ian Hislop

My Hislop love is no secret. This man’s wit & intelligence knock me out. You can see him striving to maintain integrity while he uncovers the lack of it in others. He’s been married to the same woman for a long time; proof of husband material abilities. Ian will say his shit right to whoever’s face and that’s a quality I am into. There’s also a supreme underlying confidence which I believe all adds up to literal big dick energy. I do, I really do.

Laughing man in a suit with arms crossed

Pete Davidson

Pete is a change of pace. I have only recently become aware of his existence when the internet went wild about him bagging hot ladies. I wondered who this dude was & why everyone was so shocked. Ten mins googling & some YouTube videos later I was smitten. I totally get it. His gangly honesty is appealing. This is a man who would keep you laughing & be delighted to follow your lead. I can handle a bit of chaos. The Kardashian thing is a problem, but hey, this fantasy.

Smiling man in black suit and tie with plantinum blonde hair

Kevin Whatley

Or more specifically Inspector Lewis, the character he played. Lewis is your classic family man. He adored his wife, couldn’t look at another woman for years after her death. Loving Father, doting grandfather, caring friend & all round nice guy. He has all those cute Dad jokes & soulful eyes. In short, he’s a keeper. The cop thing would be a spanner in the works in real life, but again, we’re in dream land.

Man in light coloured suit sitting on park bench with hands in his pockets

Owen Hunt

My Grey’s Anatomy fav is Owen. I like his intensity. This is not a man with commitment issues. He will marry you at the drop of hat. He’s dying to be a Daddy and he’ll tenderly nurse you through any traumatic event that occurs. All the while saving lives & maintaining a raw ‘do you in the boiler room’ hotness. Forget McDreamy, McSteamy & even Evil Spawn, Hunt is my medical dreamboat.

Red haired man in blue scrubs with arms crossed over his chest

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I feel like throwing my hands up in the air…

January 24, 2022January 25, 2022 ~ somethinginthewayshemoves

I have been catching up with And just like that & I’m having a lot of feelings. I know, I know, it’s a tv show. These people aren’t real. Except, they kind of are. A little bit.

S&TC caught me at just the right time. I started watching right before leaving home & starting uni. I continued through 18 to 24, prime discovering yourself, life & love years. I re-watched again & again, Carrie & the gals my trusted companions. It hasn’t all aged well, there’s some really dodgy shit. Plus sometime I don’t even like them; Carrie could be truly toxic things. But, I still love them. There was nothing else talking about the kind of female sexuality I was exploring in the late 90’s. There were little bits of myself & my friends in all of the fab four. I could relate to their sexual & romantic adventures. I knew the unbreakable bond of female friendship. Carrie was a writer with a penchant for the older man for goodness sake. Then of course it was all so much more glamorous than my life. They were running around Manhattan in Manolos, whilst I could barely afford Malboro lights & rent on my dodgy student flats. We were both hiding our broken hearts in a haze of smoke & high heels, though. Fantasy wrapped up in just enough reality to capture my heart.

So, I loved them. I felt like I knew them inside out. Both the characters & the all the fragments of real people I saw in them. I have twenty odd years invested in these tv people. That’s crying on the sofa, drinking cocktails with the girls, hungover Sundays, hours of explaining to stupid boyfriends why Aidan wasn’t right & so much more. I want them to be happy. Real life is perilous on the happy ending front, but when last we saw Carrie & Co is was as close to a fairy tale as you get in NYC.

Miranda, Carrie, Charlotte & Samantha in coats walking in the street

I awaited this re boot with trepidation. There was never any chance of me not partaking, but I was worried. I feared they’d mess it all up. Successful drama needs conflict and I didn’t want my middle aged babes involved in any of that. They almost killed me with that first episode. I was always rooting for Big, even when he was a total fuckwit. I wanted Carrie & John to grow old together in harmony. Given what we found out about Chris Noth, it’s just as well they killed him off (but I can still mourn the character, right?). We also had Samantha’s absence to deal with. That empty chair at the restaurant. Those flowers at the funeral. It’s heartbreaking. I’m 41 now, I know those female bonds aren’t always so indestructible, but this is fantasy. Samantha would never have had such a silly huff. Two hard blows right from the kick off. The rest are good. I can take it.

Then comes Che and all bets are off. All of sudden I’m supposed to believe that Steve can’t make Miranda cum? The Steve that knew how to get her off from night one? They make him some lame guy who can’t finger his wife. Now Miranda is running off to surprise Che, who will almost certainly be screwing someone else when she gets there. I don’t want this. I want my loyal cynical Miranda with her sweet, loving Steve. I’m taking this betrayal personally.

That’s before I even touch on how they handled Stanford’s exit. Carrie going on dates or that hideous new apartment. Thank god for Charlotte & Harry. I hope. I may be a bit more jaded and lot less likely to fall head over heels, but I can’t take it if all those happily ever afters fall apart. Make believe is supposed to offer some escapism. Will no one think of the ageing romantics?

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Little Green, have a happy ending…

October 13, 2021April 8, 2024 ~ somethinginthewayshemoves

It recently came to my attention that Joni Mitchell’s masterpiece, Blue is 50 years old. I find it incredible that words written half a century ago still cut right to the heart of me. I discovered Joni when I was around 12 and 28 years later I still love slipping into the blue. This week I have found myself listening to one song in particular on repeat. It’s Baby Loss Awareness week, as I see others share their own losses I find comfort in Little Green.

Little Green is perhaps the most perfect song ever written. I didn’t know precisely what it was about on first listen but I still got it. It still wrapped me in its magical sadness & hope. Green immediately struck me as a beautiful name for a girl. I decided there & then that should I birth a girl, I would indeed call her Green.

Little green by Joni Mitchell lyrics in background on green ribbon

I’ve been listening to that song since my teens. Dreaming of the tiny bud who would be my Green. In the passing years I have learned the true meaning of the song, talked to the Green nestled inside me & discovered the reality of loss. Joni was writing about a different, but similar grief. Her words remain entwined with my experiences.

When I dream of a daughter she is a gypsy dancer. All tangled red hair & high spirits. She likes the scent of pine trees & bracing herself against a strong, cold wind. She’s quieter than me, but chatters when excited. I read her everything I loved as a child. Take her to the places that made me feel big things. Her childhood is filled with standing stones & patterned tights & Joan Lingard books & seaside air & empowering women & red liquorice. She is exhausting, exhilarating & exquisite.

When I wake she is a girl in a song. A fantasy my mind summoned; fuelled by 70’s folk poetry and my deepest longing. Listening now is a sweet agony. Pressing my sorest spot because I can’t resist the beauty of it all. The intro wrapping me in the blanket my babies never had. The lyrics bringing the sketches in my head to life.

I’m glad we’re beginning to open up about pregnancy & baby loss. I hope others won’t have to spend so much time alone in their heads with their babies. It helps to talk about losses. To give solidity to those tiny unlived lives. It is such an enormous relief to have the world acknowledge our children.