Nic Narrates

I had a bad dream last night. A very bad dream. I dreamt that my pre-purchased ticket to the midnight showing of the Sex and the City movie was actually for Saturday night rather than tomorrow. Horrible, no?

Upon waking, I confirmed that in my haste to procure a ticket the moment they went on sale, I still managed to get one for the first publicly available showing in Chicago. Is it cliche yet to say I can’t wait?

With all the gossip on plot lines and costume changes swirling about these days, I’ve become hyper-vigilant to accidentally acquiring too much information about the movie’s outcome. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Know. So help me God.

But while the world screams and wails with glee at their weekend-long cosmo-guzzling SATC parties, I’ll be playing Scrabble and eating at Panera with my grandma. That is not a complaint, mind you. But, more than my own fanaticism, this is largely why I will be up and about long past my bedtime tomorrow night. It is my earliest and only chance to see what happens before next week. And I simply cannot stand not knowing what happens for that long. Or risk surreptitiously finding out.

I know that this movie may turn out to be a horrible disappointment, that all our hopes for Carrie and Big may come to naught, that the improbability of four fast friends such as these to amass let alone maintain such posh lifestyles in New York will become even more glaringly unrealistic, that in the end we’ll be reminded that life is not a fairy tale after all. And I don’t care.

My only real hope for the plot is to find out how they all became friends in the first place- like they did that time on Friends when Monica was in a fatsuit and Rachel was pre-nose job. As boring as that sounds, I’ve always wondered and wished they’d have told us that rather than Big’s name (which I’ve since, and perhaps purposely, forgotten because he will always be ‘Big’) in the finale.

Even so, it may be that as it grows light out and I finally crawl into bed, I’ll fall asleep easily rather than lay awake tossing and turning from the adrenaline rush of what I’ve just seen. Maybe.

Despite the real potential for a real letdown, somehow I feel certain that, at the very least, the movie will be a feast for my fashion-hungry eyes. And besides, isn’t it always better to have loved and lost than to have never [found out what the movie would be like] at all?

Filed under: a thing of beauty, city encounters, i heart fashion, i heart TV, questionable attire, SATC, shoes, singletons, the sex, wakefulness by Nic