The last scene at the end of Sex and the City’s first season. Carrie is wearing a white off the shoulder top and red open-toed mules. She standing in front of her building telling Big to tell her she’s the one, and he’s just silent. God.
I guess that’s the annoying thing about being single is that there is no “one.” There is no one that knows it all or you can spill out to or to tell you stuff either. And people you meet will say “you’re the one” sometimes, but the problem is that often they’re not the one. Like I guess that’s what’s implied in Carrie’s request. Don’t make me say it. Tell me instead. Confirm that you feel what I feel. It’s like what Toni Morrison wrote in Tar Baby: “More awful than the fear of danger was the fear of looking foolish–of being excited when others were laid back–of being somehow manipulated, surprised or shook” (108-9).
It’s sad to think you’d be alone in your feelings, but I guess that’s regular. Sometimes you’re the one doing it to someone and others, well, are doing it to you too or with you. A strange push and pull. It’s weird how you do end up having a unique relationship with each person. Who they are with you isn’t exactly who they’ll be with the next person. Not because you’re so special but because you’re both coming in from your own respective perspectives. You connect in your certain way because of who you both are. And who you are with them is one thing by itself. So when you go back to them (as you are wont to do), you remember why.
I remember being around one ex years later (this was a couple years ago now) and he has a girlfriend and stuff and she was there it was nothing like that but being around him again was so funny because he’s still so funny. I was cracking up because it’s like wow people are really who they are. But that’s also why it’s so easy to circle back on a person who isn’t actually good for you in some other way. Like yea maybe they’re funny but that doesn’t mean he’s the one. That doesn’t mean ya’ll should be together. But down the line when you’re available and they’re available, it’s easy to think hey maybe we’re both available for a reason (probably not).
I recently read two books back to back that had to do with this topic–no three. The Idiot, His Only Wife, and Widow Basquiat. The prince wants to get chosen back by Nastasya, Afi wants to get chosen by her husband, and Suzanne is chosen but not without her guy choosing other people too. She says a couple times that people told her Basquiat loved her most, but she wondered if it was really true since he slept around a lot. She says, “I always had a problem knowing if I was really special to him. I still sometimes don’t know” (56). Getting picked by your person–the person you already picked–is about clarity. It’s embarrassing not to know. Not knowing usually means no.