Sam's home alone. Now, she can't unfasten her bracelet. She listens to a phone message from Jerry down in Mexico. "Miss me yet?" Yeah. She also misses the fact that you could help unfasten the clasp on her bracelet.
The New York Times falls with a satisfying thud on Charlotte's doorstep. She leaps up in bed and calls, "It's here! It's here!" Once she cracks open the Styles section, though, she's not so happy. It looks like she has a little mustache. "I look like Hitler! I'm having a Jewish wedding, and I look like Hitler!" Harry says it's an ink stain, and maybe it's just their paper. Char calls Carrie in a panic. Carrie's lying flat on her back, and she VOs that her "fling turned into a pain in the neck." Good god, is more than her flower sore? I'd look askance at the trapeze instead of at Howie. I hope I never have sex so bad that I have to lie flat the next morning. I think Carrie should take up yoga. Anyway, Carrie rogers the Hitler-esque smudge and says unhelpfully, "Maybe it's just my paper? And your paper." Um, it isn't just two papers. It's all of them.
Wedding time! Carrie is bent double as she exits the car, still suffering her sex sprain. She tells Stanford that the official story is that she's sore from trapezing, but it was the best man that done her in. Oh my, what is Carrie wearing? A purple dirndl thing, with her hair in pale blonde braids wrapped around dark brown roots. Very unfortunate-looking. I'm flashing back to Madonna's "Bedtime Stories" era; remember the over-tweezed brows and gold tooth? Remember that pic of her in the Heidi dress with the crook? Carrie looks a little bit better than that. At least she isn't holding a crook.
Here comes the uncomfortable part: Howie the best man approaches Carrie, tells her she "looks HOT," then tells her he's got a hotel room with a huge tub and king-size bed, and they can have breakfast together in the morning if they aren't "doing other things." Yeah. Carrie says, "We'll see." He freezes, and says he knows that "'we'll see' means 'see ya.'" Carrie clumsily explains that she thought that since he was only in town for a week, that last night was just supposed to be...fun? "A one-night sort of thing?" Oh, Carrie, you ignorant slut. Can you never be blunt? Just say the sex sucked and you never want to see him again in order to reduce the chances of having such awful sex again. Jesus. Isn't there a chapter in Our Bodies, Ourselves about communicating with your partner? Bookmark it. Read it later. And never have such unsatisfying sex again, Ms. Sex Columnist. Anyway. Carrie lets the guy down dishonestly and not so gently, and then he gets upset. "If I had known you were just using me, I wouldn't have made LOVE to you like that!" Carrie squinches up her face like, whaaa?