They walk hand in hand to the opening, weaving between limos and other patrons of the arts. The red carpet action is hot; there's a ton of photographers there. They call out for Carrie, "Right here! Carrie, over here!" She and Berger pose for a few photos, and then one photog asks for "one alone, Carrie." Her face falls, Jack's plummets. She insists that they're together, and his name is "Jack Berger. He's a writer too." Berger's face gets distinctly uncomfortable-looking. He pries his hands out of hers and leaves her alone to pose. She can't smile, and goes after him. "Please, let's just do it so they can get it right for the papers?" He can't. And he can't go see the play with her. He'll just "wreck it for everybody. You okay?" He leaves, and I hate him for doing so. Carrie looks so upset. Then Stanford says in her ear, "Hello, gorgeous." She says that's the worst Barbra Streisand she's ever heard, and Stanford says, "When in Brooklyn, do as the Brooklyns do." Couldn't he have said "Brooklynites"? Carrie gives Stanford Berger's seat. Hooray, at least she won't be alone.
Charlotte sits alone in the theater, acutely aware that she's surrounded by couples. Ready to move on yet, Char? Hope so, because Kissy-Kissy from Prada has appeared at the last moment to take Miranda's seat. Good thing he was available.
And the play. Everyone in the audience gasps at Jerry's naked penis. God knows why -- I mean, what's the big deal? It's just a penis. We see boobs all the livelong day. JUST SHOW IT TO US! God. Anyway, Jerry does his monologue, and Sam actually listens. "The rain came down. Hard, and soft. It hit the grass. Green, and wet. Wet. So wet. It reminded me of you. You always smelled like the rain." Stanford whispers, "A stud is born." And curtain call. Sam asks where Berger is, and Carrie covers for him with a flu excuse. She VOs that "maybe we were all acting." And tonight, she "was playing the part of the girl in the great relationship whose boyfriend was coming down with a cold." Sniffle.