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Monday, July 28, 2003

Salad with a Side of Guilt

Last night, Steve and I watched Sex and the City, one of the few shows that we watch these days. Miranda, the single mother/lawyer, was feeling guilty about leaving her son so much. Her unsympathetic bosses gave her a hard time about leaving early from work too often; they implied that the kid was interfering with her job performance. She ends up telling her boss that she had to cut down her office hours to 50 hours a week.

It was great to see a show that dealt with the guilt involved with the kids/career dilemna and how unbending the workplace can be. The show has taken some hits because it is written and directed by gay men who really don't have a clue about women. For most part, I agree with those criticisms (no woman walks around her apartment in three inch heels when there is no one to see her), but I still love the show anyway. There are so many great inside NYC jokes (going to Century 21 on jury duty, fleet week "Hell-o Sailors").

My criticism about last night's subplot about Miranda is that they didn't go far enough. Not enough guilt. She and all her trampy friends meet every week for lunch to discuss their daliances. In reality, Miranda would have to stop going. She would feel too guilty to take two hours for lunch. She would wolf down a burrito at her desk, so that she would get home earlier to her kid. Then she would feel sorry for herself and eat ice cream, because her friends were having fun without her.

Time takes on a whole new meaning when you have kids and a job. Every minutes counts. Babysitters cost money. And if she could get home two hours earlier, then she might even be able to see the kid for a half an hour before bed. There is absolutely no guilt-free, girlfriend bitch sessions anymore. Gay men don't get it.

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