“Sex and the City” on the big screen (in my case, almost tiny)

One thing that’s hard about being single in coupled Manila is that it’s sometimes difficult to find a movie buddy. And when you want to watch a movie you’ve been waiting for with almost breathless anticipation, one that you particularly have to watch with girlfriends like “Sex and the City”, it gets that much more frustrating. It seems you just have to wait until the pirated DVD comes along to be able to watch it.

Several of my girlfriends texted me, called me, or talked to me after having seen the movie. “Have you seen it?” they asked. “I thought of you,” they added.

At first, I felt a sort of resentment. Well, it’s very sweet of them to say, I thought, but not one of them asked me to go with them to watch it!

I wanted to go and watch “Sex and the City” in the theater, but it seemed my girlfriends had already seen it. Most, if not all of them, with their significant others. Which is totally understandable and expected. (Now you see the point of what I wrote about being in coupled Manila.)

I then thought of going by myself just to see the four girls and their fabulousness across the big screen. I thought, though, that for this particular movie, that might be a tad depressing.

So tonight, I went and bought a P40 not-very-clear copy of the movie and rushed home to watch it. I just finished watching it on my laptop, and I am still sniffling from the rush of feelings that it brought.

Most women can probably relate to one or more of the characters in varying degrees (though I would probably have to say that there is almost nothing I have in common with Charlotte). But it’s not so much who among my friends reminded me of whom, or who is the most like which character.

Watching the movie reminded me of many situations I’ve found myself in with my girlfriends. The ones I’ve bought shoes and purses with, the ones I ate with, laughed with, been catty with, drank with, and bawled my eyes out with. Even the ones I’ve fought with.

I am so very fortunate to have so many Carries, Samanthas, Mirandas, and, ok, even Charlottes in my life. I am largely who I am because of them. Just like Carrie to Miranda on that cold New Year’s Eve, they’ve often said to me that I’m not alone, and they have many times made me feel so.

And though I did watch the movie all by my lonesome on a Friday night, I felt that my friends were there with me, right there on my tiny computer screen. Not all of them dressed as fabulously, but as great at being friends as those fictional characters ever were.

The happy-ever-after of Carrie and Mr. Big moved me not at all. But the enduring friendship of those four women? Now that’s a happy ending.

So… I raise my glass in a toast. To all my girlfriends… Female, and fabulous.

It’s been a while…

since I wrote here, and a lot has happened since my last post. One of the biggest developments is that I have FINALLY moved into a better place (this is literal, not figurative), one without cults, religious figures in the hall, queues of people outside my door waiting for a miracle cure, more lines outside my window forming for a shot at being part of the audience of a game show, and one-eyed people grabbing my arm as I leave my condo (hopefully I will be able to write about this in a future entry).

My new place is still walking distance from my office, though a few meters farther from my other condo. Small price to pay for finally feeling that my home is a haven, and not hell.

The bad news is that I have no Internet in my new place, because of red tape and all that. Thus, I am now accessing the worldwide Web in a coffee shop at the ground floor of my new place of residence. I am still working on getting Internet at home, but it’s a long tedious process. Argh.