Carrie, scowling into the screen of her usual product-placed Macintosh G4 laptop, takes a stab at her first email, which will go to CIM. Okay, if she never had email before, then why does she know Aidan’s email address? I suppose Steve, through Miranda, could have supplied it, but still. It underscores the stupidity of this plot. She has a paragraph written on her handy-dandy America Online email account -- AOL! So easy to use, even Carrie can do it! -- but she hastily deletes it; since I am a loving, caring recapper, I paused my tape and transcribed. Here it is, in all its glory:
“Another big problem: I’m surrounded by memories of you, in my apartment, on the street, that little Moroccan restaurant we ran into when it started pouring rain on us and you kissed me over the couscous. (Rookie tactical mistake not to have a memory-free environment. Why did we have to go so many places?) Anyhow, I’m not holding out hope that you’re going to change your mind about us. You probably have a new girlfriend now, or several new girlfriends, and I missed my window and I’ll just have to live with that. I’m sure you feel like you can’t trust me with your heart. But please know that I never meant to hurt you, and I would never do it again, because I know now (too little too late, or better late than never?) that what we had was real and rare and special, and the way it felt to kiss you is the way I always want to feel. I hope you write me back, but if you don’t, I understand. Just know that I’m thinking about you and I miss you, and I’m still sleeping on your shoulder when I close my eyes at night. -- Carrie.”
That last line is rather sweet, but Microsoft Word disapproves of her grammar in some places. Still, not bad; but, after the merest glimpse on-screen of this missive, Carrie replaces it with, “I miss you. Do you miss me?” Then she deletes the second sentence and sends it to CIM with a wince. This moment of angst is brought to you by America Online. Carrie covers her face with her hands and shrieks, not least because the tom-tom music is coming back to haunt her and SJP is afraid the ghost theme is coming out of retirement.
Samantha is getting some “male” as well, Carrie shares. Moaning with pleasure, she grins as Warren creeps up from between her legs and we prepare to hear the PR expert’s failure as a bedtime communicator: “Samanfa, does ya gina-wina wanna visit fwom my mista-mista?” My roommate and I snort in unison; to this day there’s a puddle of Diet Coke fizzing in my sinuses. I’d have paid good money to hear Sonia Braga deliver that line.