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Unmarried Women, Toxic Bachelors

Once upon a time an English journalist came to New York. Elizabeth was attractive and bright, and right away she hooked up with one of the cities typically eligible bachelors. Tim was 42. A well liked, and respected Investment Banker who made about 2 Million A year. They met one evening in typical New York fashion, at a gallery opening. It was love at first sight. For 2 weeks they snuggled, went to romantic restaurants, had wonderful sex, and shared their most intimate secrets. One warm spring day he took her to a town house he saw in Sundays 'New York Times'. That day Tim popped the question "How would you like to have dinner with my folks Tuesday night?" On Tuesday he called with some bad news. When she hadn't heard from him in 2 weeks she called. He said he was up to his ears and that he'd call her the next day. "He never did call of course! Bastard!" She told me one day over coffee. "I don't understand. In England, looking at houses together would have meant something". Then I realised. No one's told her about the end of love in Manhattan.

Welcome to the age of Un-innocence. No one has 'Breakfast at Tiffanys' and no one has 'Affairs to Remember'. Instead we have breakfast at 7am and affairs we try to forget as quickly as possible. Self-protection and closing the deal are paramount. Cupid has flown the co-op. There are thousands, maybe tens of thousands of women like this in the city. We all know them and we all agree they're great. They travel, they pay taxes, they'll spend $400 on a pair of Manolo Blahnik strappy sandals. And they're alone. It's like the riddle of the Sphinx.

Why are there so many great unmarried women and no great unmarried guys?

I explore these sorts of issues in my column, and I have terrific sources...my friends. "When you're a young guy in your twenties, women are controlling the relationships. By the time you're an eligible man in your thirties you feel like you're being devoured by women. Suddenly the guys are holding all the chips. I call it a mid-thirties power flip". Peter Mason - Toxic Bachelor. "it's all about age and Biology. I mean if you want to get married it's to have kids, right? And you don't wanna do it with someone older than 35 'cos then you have to have kids right away and that's about it. I think these women should just forget about marriage and have a good time". Capote Duncan - Toxic Bachelor. "I have a friend, who's always gone out with extremely sexy guys and just had a good time. One day she woke up and she's 41. She couldn't get anymore dates. She had a complete physical breakdown, couldn't hold onto her job and had to move back to Wisconsin to live, with her mother." Miranda Hobbes - Unmarried Woman. "Most men are threatened by successful women. If you want to get these guys, you have to keep your mouth shut and play by the rules". Charlotte York - Unmarried Women. "I totally believe that love conquers all. Sometimes you just have to give it a little space, and that's exactly what is missing in Manhattan, the space for romance". Skipper Johnston - Hopeless Romantic.

"The problem is expectations. Older women don't want to settle for what's available". - Toxic Bachelor.

"By the time you reach your mid thirties you think - 'Why should I settle?' You know?" - Unmarried Women.

"It's like the older we get the more we keep self-selecting down to a smaller and smaller group." - Unmarried Women.

"There's not one woman in New York who hasn't turned down 10 wonderful guys 'cos they were too short, or too fat or too poor." - Toxic Bachelor.

"I have been out with some of those guys, the short, fat poor ones. It makes absolutely no difference. They're just as self-centred and unappreciative as the good-looking ones." - Unmarried Women.

"Why don't these women just marry a fat guy? Why don't they just marry a big fat tub of lard?" - Toxic Bachelor.

Another thirty something birthday with a group of unmarried female friends. We would have all preferred a nice celebratory conference call. "Look, if you're a successful saleswomen in this city you have two choices, you can bang your head against the wall and try and find a relationship or you can say say SCREW'EM, and just go out and have sex like a man". Samantha Jones was a New York inspiration. A PR Executive who routinely slept with good looking guys in their twenties.

Was it true? were women in New York really giving up on love and throttling up on power? What a tempting thought.

"You know i'm beginning to think the only place where one can still find love and romance in New York is the gay community, it's straight love that's become closeted." Stanford Blatch was one of my closest friends. He was the owner of a talent agency who at the moment was down a single client. "Oh my god, don't turn around. The loathe of your life is at the bar." It was Kurt Harrington a mistake I made when I was 26, and 29, and 31. It was true, I no longer felt a thing for Kurt. After all these years I finally saw him for what he was- a self centred, withholding creep who was still the best sex I ever had in my life. However, I did have a little experiment in mind.

Kurt was just like I remembered, better because this time there would be none of that messy emotional attachment. As I began to get dressed, I realised that I'd done it. I'd just had sex like a man. I left feeling powerful, potent and incredibly alive. I felt like I owned this city. Nothing and no-one could get in my way. 'Thump'.

Number one - He's very handsome.

Number two - He's not wearing a wedding ring.

Number three - He knows I carry a personal supply of ultra textured Trojans with a reserver tip.

His name is Mr Big.

Later that night Skipper Johnson met me for coffee and confessed a shocking intimate secret. "Do you know it's been like a year?" He said. "Really? I don't understand that. You're such a nice guy." I said. "That's the problem I'm too nice, you know? I'm a romantic. I just have so much feeling. Don't you have any friends that you can hook me up with?" He said. "Maybe, maybe my friend Miranda." I said. Miranda was going to hate Skipper. She'd think he was mocking her with his sweet nature and decide he was an asshole. The way she had decided all men were assholes.

Friday night at the club Chaos. It was just like that bar in Cheers where everybody knows your name, except they were likely to forget it 5 minutes later. Still it was the creme de la creme of New York whipped into a frenzy. Sometimes you got a souffle, sometimes cottage cheese. I was just about to rescue Skipper from an increasingly hopeless situation with Miranda when suddenly Kurt Harrington appeared. "You know I was really pissed off the way you left the other day. Then I thought - how great! You finally understand the kind of relationship I really want and now we can have sex without commitment." I didn't understand. Did all men secretly want their women promiscuous and emotionally detached? And if I was really having sex like a man, why didn't I feel more in control?

"You see that guy? He's the next Donald Trump except he's younger and much better looking. He usually only dates models, but hey i'm as good looking as a model plus I own my own business." Samantha had the kind of deluded self-confidence that caused men like Ross Perot to run for President and it usually got her what she wanted. And there she went, off to take her best shot with Mr Big. Meanwhile Charlotte York was passing the most splendid evening with Capote Duncan. Though Charlotte was determined to play hard to get, she didn't want to end the evening too abruptly. Charlotte had told me later that she thought that she had played the entire evening flawlessly, until he had to go to Chaos as he needed to have sex. Back at Chaos, things were swinging into high gear and Samantha was putting the moves on Mr Big which ended disastrous. Meanwhile Skipper Johnston was hopelessly smitten with Miranda Hobbes. Miranda had told me later that she thought he was too nice, but that she was willing to overlook one flaw. And Capote Duncan found his fix for the night, Samantha.

And so another Friday night in Manhattan crept towards dawn. And just when I thought I would have to do the unspeakable, walk home..."well, get in for Christ's sakes" said Mr Big. In the car ride back to 72nd street and 3rd avenue, we were having the talk about our jobs and life "I write a column called Sex and The City, right now i'm researching an article about women who have sex like men. You know, they have sex and then afterwards feel nothing" I said. He giggled and said "I get it, you've never been in love." Suddenly I felt the wind knocked out of me. I wanted to crawl under the covers and go right to sleep. He dropped me off and I started walking into my apartment building until a had a sudden urge to run back out, I said with haste "Wait, Have you ever been in love?" He said "Abso-fuckin'-lutley.