Straight Male here, I like SATC
I said I know no straight dudes who liked or cared about Sex and the City and that guy wrote a review and admited he was fan of the show was porbably gay.(and trust me my crush is a homophobe if I ever met one) I could be wrong. Fine. Hey, they may exist. I’ve never met them.
My name is PeterWKnox, a straight male, and I’ve seen every episode of SATC. And I’m not alone, amongst some male friends. At first I was pulled into the series, forced to watch with my soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend-at-the-time to give us something to do in the waning days of our relationship, but eventually I came to enjoy those perfect 24-28 minute mental vacations to New York, the fast life, female comedy, and understanding just what women are fed on television in the same voyeuristic thrill that a girl would get out of watching James Bond or GI Joe. Like Coach Belichick, knowing he shouldn’t be taping the other team’s pre-game practice but hoping to gain some kind of competitive edge in doing so, I watched SATC.
I got hooked. The male characters were all secondary and seemingly disposable, but I’d root for the ones I liked (Aiden, Berger) and vocalize my displeasure for the jerks that just wouldn’t go away (Big). It was like watching Entourage from the reverse POV, and it would raise interesting discussion points among my soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend-at-the-time and myself, to wit:
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ME: Why is Carrie cheating on what is obviously the best male character yet in the show with what is obviously the neediest and most pathetic male character in the show?
HER: (thrilled) You just don’t understand.
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HER: God, I want a cigarette.
ME: Just because all of them are smoking? You don’t even smoke much! Do we have to stop the show?
HER: You just don’t understand.
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ME: Does she have to ruin every outfit with something neon and fuzzy or huge and tacky?
HER: Yeah, that bow is pretty ridiculous.
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And who wouldn’t want to make their way through New York writing a self-serving column about their own personal life? Sure, some things about living in New York as portrayed on the show have come true (I do love me some weekend brunch and writing in bed) but just as many have not. That has to do with me not being a thirty/forty something year old female dating a wide range of men while at the same time trying to lock down a relationship, marriage, kids, and a house, but for me the enjoyment I derive from the show comes mainly through living a life I wouldn’t want to live on a daily basis.
I get exhausted and overwhelmed by Carrie’s closet - why would I ever want to be/date her? Could I have ever have put up with Charlotte’s neediness for perfection? Would Samantha kick or throw me out of bed when I couldn’t perform to her boy toy standards? And could Miranda be any more scheduled and predictable? But if they were all balenced normal average New Yorkers would anybody watch?
I turn off the tv and come away from the viewing experience glad that I’m a guy and I can watch the show as it was meant to be perceived: as fantasy fiction and not a viable life plan. I’m only worried when it becomes more than that to others. It’s not the end of the world, people, it just needs a warning label.
