The next day, Miranda -- “sans nipples,” Carrie points out -- shows up at the park to train for the marathon. “But running wasn’t the only thing getting her heart-rate going,” Carrie VOs. Miranda peeks at a guy next to her and asks if he’s in the wrong group -- this is the ten-minute mile group, and all the hot guys can run it in seven. He says he’s had knee surgery and then suggests they train together, just the two of them, during the week. “Miranda was thrilled, but she still wasn’t sure if he was interested in anything more than a running buddy,” Carrie explains as they jog away.
“Uptown, Charlotte’s marathon redecoration continued,” Carrie says. Trey strolls through the dining room and says he can’t believe he ever questioned the wallpaper -- he loves it now. Which is tragic, because it’s boring-beige wallpaper with brown spots on it that look suspiciously, well, a bit like shit stains. He hugs Suzy Homemaker and oh, aren’t they blissfully wed, blah blah kiss snore hug, and they wander into the study. Carrie explains that every married couple has one room that forces the parenthood question. Charlotte gingerly notes that the study is attached to the bedroom, then passes the buck to Trey, who picks it up and says, “It could be a good room for a… B-A…” “B-Y,” Charlotte finishes with a hopeful smile. Trey, ever the elegant man, says, “We already have enough bathrooms,” and they embrace elatedly, because they’ll be making a baby instead of payments on brass faucets. Carrie explains for people who can’t spell that Charlotte and Trey were finally on the same page, “and that page had a baby on it.”
We cut to a close-up of Samantha’s mega-nips poking through her blue sweater. I think one of them’s about to break through and drop off into her red wine. “Samantha went shopping, nipples blazing, and picked up a ’94 cabernet and an ’84 Harvard MBA,” Carrie tells us. Samantha’s nipples are almost upstaged by the thick white bangle she’s wearing -- no, not Susannah Hoffs. A bracelet. Sam totters into the living room. “It’s a blip!” MBA bellows into a cell phone. “No, we can’t retract it.” Carrie tells us his name is Warren Dreyfous, a partner in a communications firm that “made the Exxon oil spill an incident rather than a debacle.” The cutie actor with the piercing baby blues is John Bolger, who -- for trivia buffs -- had lead roles in Another World and One Life to Live, and who is related to Ray Bolger, who played the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. Samantha leans provocatively against the wall, and my roommate is momentarily blinded by her headlights. “That’s just absurd,” he says. But Warren is rapt, and cuts off his cell-phone conversation, apologizing to Samantha. “About talking on the phone, or staring at my nipples?” she asks seductively. He says he’s apologizing for the phone conversation, and then ravages her. As he smooches the back of her neck, Samantha jubilantly rips of the suction-nips and throws them into the air. I half-expect one to affix to the wall with a smacking sound, but it doesn’t, instead disappearing into the same black hole that sucked away her memories of lesbianism.