a cocktail party thrown by the designer Joop—one of those parties that should be in a movie, with everyone crowded in and the gay boys so lively, and even though Carrie had to work the next day, she knew she'd eventually have too many drinks and go home too late. Carrie doesn't like to go home at night and she doesn't like to go to sleep.
Mr. Joop cleverly ran out of champagne halfway though the party, and people were banging on the kitchen door and begging the waiters for a glass of wine. A man walked by with a cigar in his mouth, and one of the men Carrie was talking to said, "Oooooh. Who is that again? He looks like a younger, better-looking Ron Perelman."
"I know who it is," Carrie said.
"Who?"
"Mr. Big."
"I knew that. I always get Mr. Big and Perelman mixed up."
"How much will you give me," Carrie asked. "How much will you give me if I go over and talk to him?" She does this new thing she's doing now with her short hair. She fluffs it up while the boys look at her and laugh. "You're crazy," they say.
Carrie had seen Mr. Big once before, but she didn't think he'd remember file://D:\Bushnell, Candace - Sex and the City.htm 2008.09.06.
Page 32 of 156
her. She was in this office where she works sometimes, and Inside Edition was interviewing her about something she wrote about Chihuahuas. Mr. Big came in and started talking to the cameraman about how Chihuahuas were all over Paris, and Carrie leaned over and tightened the lace on her boot.
At the party, Mr. Big was sitting on the radiator in the living room. "Hi,"
Carrie said. "Remember me?" She could tell by his eyes that he had no idea who she was, and she wondered if he was going to panic.
He twirled the cigar around the inside of his lips and took it out of his mouth. He looked away to flick his ash, then looked back at her. "Abso-fucking-lutely."
ANOTHER MR. BIG (AT ELAINE'S)
Carrie didn't run into Mr. Big again for several days. In the meantime, something was definitely happening. She bumped into a writer friend she hadn't seen for two months, and
he said, "What's going on with you? You look completely different." "I do?"
"You look like Heather Locklear. Did you get your teeth fixed?"
Then she was at Elaine's, and a big writer, a big one, someone she'd never met, gave her the finger and then sat down next to her and said, "You're not as tough as you think you are."
"Excuse me?"
"You walk around like you're so fucking great in bed."
She wanted to say, "I do?"—but instead she laughed and said, "Well, maybe I am."
He lit her cigarette. "If I wanted to have an affair with you, it would have to last a long time. I wouldn't want a one-night stand."
"Well, baby," she said, "you've got the wrong girl."
Then she went to a party after one of those Peggy Siegal movie openings and ran into a big movie producer, another big one, and he gave her a ride in his car to Bowery Bar. But Mr. Big was there.
Mr. Big slid into the banquette next to her. Their sides were touching.
Mr. Big said, "So. What have you been doing lately?"
"Besides going out every night?"
"Yeah—what do you do for work?"
"This is my work," she said. "I'm researching a story for a friend of mine about women who have sex like men. You know, they have sex and afterwards they feel nothing."
Mr. Big eyed her. "But you're not like that," he said.
"Aren't you?" she asked.
"Not a drop. Not even half a drop," he said.
Carrie looked at Mr. Big. "What's wrong with you?"
"Oh, I get it," said Mr. Big. "You've never been in love."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
file://D:\Bushnell, Candace - Sex and the City.htm 2008.09.06.
Page 33 of 156
"And you have?"
" Abso-fucking-lutely."
They went back to his apartment. Mr. Big opened a bottle of Crystal champagne. Carrie was laughing and carrying on and then she said, "I have to go."
"It's four A.M .," he said. He stood up. "I'm not going to let you go home now."
He gave her a T-shirt and boxer shorts. He went into the bathroom while she changed. She got
Mr. Joop cleverly ran out of champagne halfway though the party, and people were banging on the kitchen door and begging the waiters for a glass of wine. A man walked by with a cigar in his mouth, and one of the men Carrie was talking to said, "Oooooh. Who is that again? He looks like a younger, better-looking Ron Perelman."
"I know who it is," Carrie said.
"Who?"
"Mr. Big."
"I knew that. I always get Mr. Big and Perelman mixed up."
"How much will you give me," Carrie asked. "How much will you give me if I go over and talk to him?" She does this new thing she's doing now with her short hair. She fluffs it up while the boys look at her and laugh. "You're crazy," they say.
Carrie had seen Mr. Big once before, but she didn't think he'd remember file://D:\Bushnell, Candace - Sex and the City.htm 2008.09.06.
Page 32 of 156
her. She was in this office where she works sometimes, and Inside Edition was interviewing her about something she wrote about Chihuahuas. Mr. Big came in and started talking to the cameraman about how Chihuahuas were all over Paris, and Carrie leaned over and tightened the lace on her boot.
At the party, Mr. Big was sitting on the radiator in the living room. "Hi,"
Carrie said. "Remember me?" She could tell by his eyes that he had no idea who she was, and she wondered if he was going to panic.
He twirled the cigar around the inside of his lips and took it out of his mouth. He looked away to flick his ash, then looked back at her. "Abso-fucking-lutely."
ANOTHER MR. BIG (AT ELAINE'S)
Carrie didn't run into Mr. Big again for several days. In the meantime, something was definitely happening. She bumped into a writer friend she hadn't seen for two months, and
he said, "What's going on with you? You look completely different." "I do?"
"You look like Heather Locklear. Did you get your teeth fixed?"
Then she was at Elaine's, and a big writer, a big one, someone she'd never met, gave her the finger and then sat down next to her and said, "You're not as tough as you think you are."
"Excuse me?"
"You walk around like you're so fucking great in bed."
She wanted to say, "I do?"—but instead she laughed and said, "Well, maybe I am."
He lit her cigarette. "If I wanted to have an affair with you, it would have to last a long time. I wouldn't want a one-night stand."
"Well, baby," she said, "you've got the wrong girl."
Then she went to a party after one of those Peggy Siegal movie openings and ran into a big movie producer, another big one, and he gave her a ride in his car to Bowery Bar. But Mr. Big was there.
Mr. Big slid into the banquette next to her. Their sides were touching.
Mr. Big said, "So. What have you been doing lately?"
"Besides going out every night?"
"Yeah—what do you do for work?"
"This is my work," she said. "I'm researching a story for a friend of mine about women who have sex like men. You know, they have sex and afterwards they feel nothing."
Mr. Big eyed her. "But you're not like that," he said.
"Aren't you?" she asked.
"Not a drop. Not even half a drop," he said.
Carrie looked at Mr. Big. "What's wrong with you?"
"Oh, I get it," said Mr. Big. "You've never been in love."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
file://D:\Bushnell, Candace - Sex and the City.htm 2008.09.06.
Page 33 of 156
"And you have?"
" Abso-fucking-lutely."
They went back to his apartment. Mr. Big opened a bottle of Crystal champagne. Carrie was laughing and carrying on and then she said, "I have to go."
"It's four A.M .," he said. He stood up. "I'm not going to let you go home now."
He gave her a T-shirt and boxer shorts. He went into the bathroom while she changed. She got
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