Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte are back! The Sex and the City sequel, And Just Like That… has returned to Max, and Slate’s podcast The Waves is covering it every week—exclusively for Slate Plus members. Below is a bit of this week’s recap, covering Episode 11 with senior producer Cheyna Roth and senior supervising producer Daisy Rosario.
To get the full episode, and lots more Slate Plus bonus content, go to slate.com/thewavesplus to become a Slate Plus member today.
Cheyna Roth: The long-distance relationship that I’m not buying is Aidan and Carrie. I’m confused. They’re going to be on a break for five years because of his kid? What is this?
Daisy Rosario: They were definitely trying to make it feel wrapped up, but also leave the door open. I don’t completely understand what that means.
Aidan doesn’t come to the big Last Supper. We knew he wasn’t going to because of his whole “I can’t set foot in your apartment.”
And the timeline of this show has been weird, but yes, these two episodes are kind of just set on back-to-back days.
And he had to race back to Virginia because his kid, his youngest, who’s like 14, got into some mushrooms and some alcohol and the son gets into a car accident. Aidan is feeling very guilty about this. Something we learn is that, I guess, the mom is not around that much?
The mom had always been the one traveling back and forth to China. I guess I just don’t remember enough about her job. Not that we were ever told a ton about it. There’s a weird moment in Sex of the City, too, I think. He was a furniture designer. She was a textile person. They met, somehow, related to that. I do remember that. But I don’t feel like we’ve known much about Kathy in general.
So, when Aidan does show up after this dinner is over, it’s kind of cute. He’s throwing rocks at her window and then he comes up, and it’s a big thing he does to step his feet into the apartment. He comes into the apartment and he basically says, “Look, my kid’s going through a tough time. I have to be there for him because I am the emotional center. I am the bedrock for these kids. And my 17- and 20-year-old also need me.”
They’re only 17 and 20. Look, I have a 17-year-old sister. I get that. But when you say, “They’re only 17 and 20,” it sounds funny.
He says, “I gotta be there. I gotta be there full time. I gotta give, especially my youngest, my full attention. We can date when he’s out of his teens,” which is in five years. I’m sorry. I mean, I have a kid, I know that when she becomes a teenager, it’s going to be a whole different ballgame, and that teens are hard, and that it’s important to be there for your kids and do what they need. But also, boundaries—and taking care of yourself—is important and healthy and good. And I feel like saying, “I’m not going to date for five years, I’m not going to be with this person for five years, because my kid needs that much from me,” I am confused as to what’s going on here.
Yeah, I feel like when you put it that way, that is helpful. So, I’ve actually had some stuff with my own family, with my sister, and there are ways in which I wish there had been more immediate involvement, let’s put it that way. So, in that sense, I appreciated hearing Aidan say to Carrie, “The only person I love more than you is my kids.” Great, yes.
But, “I’m going to go to Virginia and we will not—nothing for five years.” I mean, maybe they can send a card, but he essentially is like, “We won’t be together because I will be thinking of you if we are.” Carrie’s offering to go down and visit and all of this stuff. Again, the idea of long distance and just slowing it down for a while was off the table. And if that’s what Aidan really needs to do, then sure. But it just felt like such a bizarre definition of it. Like, “Yes, until my son is out of his teens in five years.” The same way that there are flights, it just seemed like there is probably some middle option that they are not discussing because it wouldn’t make sense for the show, not because it wouldn’t make sense for human beings. And I think that’s always where it feels weird.
Right. And that’s the thing. It feels like we are sacrificing any sort of practical, lived-in reality for the sake of some drama. But also, why do we need to keep Aidan around? I mean, why not just say, “OK, I just can’t be with you right now,” and then just end it? And then maybe at the end of Season 3, he comes back and he’s like, “Hey, my kid’s great and we’re fine now.” But to be like, “We are going to have some sex and then we are going to wave goodbye to each other for five years.” Carrie and Seema end on the beach being like they have a prison sentence, which it kind of feels like it is.
Seema can’t be with anybody for five months and Carrie has five years. But I think that part of it is that they’re not going to say that Carrie can’t be with anyone. That’s part of what I mean when it feels like just a choice for the show and not a choice that humans would make: That’s just them finding a way for Carrie to be able to date if the show continues, which we now know it is. But if it didn’t continue, then in our minds, I guess we could be like, “Well, she’s technically with Aidan.”
It’s trying to do both, and it’s just coming across as people being odd as all get-out.
