Charlotte miscarried. It happens. And it's got to be the worst feeling in the world. Carrie arrives, and sits next to her on the couch. Char, her face shiny and tear-stained, ignores her offer of mint tea and says she can't go to Brady's party. Of course not. Mir will understand.
Mir and Blair cross the rest of their party favors off the birthday to-do list. Check, done! Blair asks about the cake, and then says, "You like chocolate, don't you." Duh, Blair. Everyone say it with me: Sexual chocolate! I knew that you would. Then he drops the cookie bomb. He wants to talk about the cookie. I'm sorry, I don't like sentences that start that way. I like things that end in "cookie," though. Mir says she wants to talk about it if he gives her a minute. He says it was five days ago. She says, "Delicious!" What about what it says? She says, "Sweet! It was so sweet!" They kiss. Then we go into a VO of the fake show Jules and Mimi. They're confessing their love for each other. Mir watches skeptically, and pauses her TiVo to call Carrie. She says she "is so fucked up," because she can't say "I love you." After all, Blair said it (on a cookie) and she couldn't. Mir thinks she's never going to be happy. "Is he the one? I don't know! Because I am so fucked up, and I'm never gonna know!" Carrie tells her to turn off Jules and Mimi and go to bed. Mir says, "You know what used to make me feel better? Cookies." Oh the sweet, delicious, chewy chewy chocolate irony.
Carrie types in her apartment. She starts off talking about Valentine's Day cards, then about how "everyone is waiting for that one thing to make their life complete -- that job, that family...when will waiting for the one be done?" Oh, god. Never? Today? It's true. And now I want to know the answer.
Samantha, wrapped in a towel, blow-dries her hair. Then, for no good reason I can think of, she aims the blow dryer at her crotch. Then she does a double-take. She picks up the tweezers, then gets a better idea.