By Lori Welch Brown

Tiring of my usual Dateline routine, I recently tapped into some old, familiar friends—namely—Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte. It had been a while—a long while—since I watched the sex’capades of the single New York women of Sex and the City fame.

When it originally aired (late 90s) on HBO, I was like Carrie—in my 30s and single. Unlike Carrie, I was poor. Too poor to afford the extravagance of HBO let alone a closet full of Manolo Blahniks. So—years later, I treated myself to the box set of DVDs and a friendship was born.

I was still single—I remember being on a first date with a handsome man and feeling very Carrie’ish in my kitten heels. Until, that is, that I happened to mention that I was a fan of the show at which point he visibly recoiled. “You watch Sex and the City?,” he asked seemingly mortified. I affirmed and watched my second date option disappear as Captain Conservative sped out of the parking lot. Oh well. Easy come; easy go.

Maybe because I was single and 30-something or maybe because it was cutting-edge HBO, but all of the nudity and sex didn’t make me raise an eyebrow. Watching it now as a married 50-something woman, I’m like, “Wow. Is she going out in that?!,” and “Holy cow—did he just say that?!,” and “OMG—did I just see what I think I did?,” and “Dang—that’s a lot of you know what before noon.”

Maybe I am morphing into Captain Conservative in my later years.

Shifts are definitely occurring. For years, I was a Mr. Big fan; Aidan, not so much. I couldn’t get past the big silver rings and sheep doggish mannerisms. Big, however, with his power suits, sly smile, tastefully decorated condo, and commitment issues out the wazzooo—he was the man of my dreams.

Now I find myself pulling for Aidan. He loves Carrie. He wants to marry Carrie and take care of her. He’s a good guy. And now, I see Big for who he is—a selfish player with perhaps a tinge of narcissism.

God—what has happened to me? Did I grow up when I wasn’t looking? 

When Aidan moves into Carrie’s apartment, the wheels begin to fall off the wagon. She has never shared her space. And, to her credit, it’s a tiny space. While she wanted a relationship—the gold standard to which we are all groomed to want and stretch for and feel incomplete without—she finds herself longing for her pre-Aidan days when she could indulge her SSBs—otherwise known as her Secret Single Behaviors. “That stuff you can do when you’re totally alone,” says Carrie, i.e., the stuff you’d never want your boyfriend to see.

“I like to make a stack of Saltines. I put grape jelly on them. I eat them standing up in the kitchen reading fashion magazines,” Carrie explains. Charlotte confides that she likes examining her pores in a mirror for an hour before bedtime, and Miranda’s SSB involves Vaseline, moisturizing gloves, and infomercials.

While I’m no longer single, I can still relate. Back in the day, I had my own SSBs which were similar to Carrie’s except mine involved Ritz crackers, a tub of peanut butter and People mags eaten standing up at the kitchen counter in my underwear after a night out with friends. Weird? Maybe. But don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Luckily, there is no photographic evidence.

My SMBs (Single Married Behaviors) are probably too numerous to list here, but mostly involve tweezers and Ben Gay. Occasionally, I get crazy and bring in the big guns—Etsy and Ebay—my late night porn fix. Perusing vintage designer scarves and handbags is my dirty secret, but ssshhhhh.  I rarely, if ever, buy; my kink is trolling and hearting my faves.

Just because we enter into a relationship doesn’t mean we have to share everything. I mean for God’s sake—I already gave up my collection of self-help books and Beanie babies. How much can one possibly be expected to give and still retain their sense of self?

I haven’t even begun to uncover my Secret September Behaviors which may or may not include hiding under the covers with my pals Zappos and Nordstrom. Planning my fantasy fall wardrobe has never felt so decadent. And while I’m at it—who knows…maybe I’ll treat myself to a birthday present or two. Did I mention how much I love September?

About the Author: Lori is a local writer, painter and pet lover who loves to share her experiences and expertise with our readers. She has been penning a column for the OTC for over 25 years. Please follow Lori online on Medium for more missives like this.