Carrie leans back from her chair, checking her handy AOL email account -- AOL! Making and breaking relationships since 1985! -- and announcing that CIM still hasn’t responded. She slinks down low into her seat, bumming out big-time -- but not, for once in her life, Big-time. Then comes the plot twist. You know, there was a point at which I was about four thousand miles away from this plot twist, and yet I still spotted it on the horizon, staggering toward me with a belt of scotch in one hand and a picture of its parents, Contrivance and Predictability, clutched in the other. Carrie hears someone calling her name, and she leaps over her desk to lean out the window. It’s -- wait for it! Wait…for…it -- CIM, pulling a Romeo while also pulling a dog on a leash. “Okay, let’s give it a shot,” he smiles. She pretends to be surprised. “Want to come upstairs?” she asks, but he says he promised his dog, Pete, a nice long walk. He invites her along. “Yeah. Don’t move, okay?” she begs him. Crawling back inside her window, Carrie shuts off the computer and calls out that she’ll be right down. The computer screen turns black.
Next week, Samantha becomes a transsexual, Charlotte proposes to her biker-boyfriend Jimmy, Miranda tries a case while her husband and daughter go bowling with Big, and Carrie gets a job writing a column about sex and relationships. At least, that’s the kind of continuity and sensible storytelling we’ve come to expect this season on Sex and the City. What really happens next week: Carrie screws something up but Aidan keeps on screwing anyway, while Samantha gets sassy in a taxi.