Carrie: There'll be no next time. This is going to be like Bridges of Madison Avenue, a very brief affair I'll write about in sappy letters to my grandchildren.
Carrie: I'm looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love. And I don't think that love is here in this expensive suite in this lovely hotel in Paris.
Carrie: Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.
Carrie: Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate. Without them, what would shape our lives? Perhaps if we never veered off course, we wouldn't fall in love, or have babies, or be who we are. After all, seasons change. So do cities. People come into your life and people go. But it's comforting to know the ones you love are always in your heart. And if you're very lucky, a plane ride away.
Carrie: When it comes to relationships, maybe we're all in glass houses, and shouldn't throw stones. Because you can never really know. Some people are settling down, some are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less. Than butterflies...
Carrie: Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they're supposed to run wild until they find someone -- just as wild -- to run with.
Carrie: Maybe the past is like an anchor holding us back. Maybe, you have to let go of who you are to become who you will be.
Carrie: When you're young, your whole life is about the pursuit of fun, then you grow up and learn to be cautious; you could break a bone, or a heart. You look before you leap and sometimes you don't leap at all because there's not always someone there to catch you. And in life, there is no safety net. When did it stop being fun and start being scary?
Carrie: You have to figure ... if the world's fattest twins can find love, there's hope for all of us. Somewhere out there is another little freak who will love us, understand us, and kiss our 3 heads and make it all better.
Carrie: Maybe all men are a drug. Sometimes they bring you down and sometimes, like now, they get you so high.
Carrie: Later that day I got to thinking about fairy tales. What if Prince Charming had never shown up? Would Snow White have laid in that glass box forever? Or would she have gotten up, spit out the apple, gotten a job and a health care plan and moved on with her life?
Carrie: Men who have had a lot of sexual partners are not called sluts. They're called very good kissers, a few are even called romantics.
Carrie: I admit it's tempting to wish for the perfect boss - the perfect parent - or the perfect outfit. But maybe the best any of us can do is not quit, play the hand we've been dealt, and accessorize what we've got.
Carrie: Men in their forties are like the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle: tricky, complicated, and you're never really sure you got the right answer.
Carrie: When men attempt bold gestures, generally it's considered romantic. When women do it, it's often considered desperate or psychotic.
Big: So I guess this is what we'd be like in our 70's. No sex and board games.
Carrie: Aww, you're already thinking about your next birthday?
Charlotte: Did you know I read that if you don't have sex for a year, you can actually become re-virginized?
Carrie: And, I would imagine, quite frisky.
Carrie: While women are certainly no strangers to faking it - we've faked our hair color, cup size, hell, we've even faked fur. I couldn't help but wonder, has fear of being alone suddenly raised the bar on faking? Are we faking more than orgasms? Are we faking entire relationships? Is it better to fake it than be alone?
Carrie: People go to casinos for the same reason they go on blind dates: hoping to hit the jackpot. But mostly, you just wind up broke or alone in a bar.
Carrie: Later that night I got to thinking about the x-factor. In mathmatics, we learn that x stands for the unknown, a+b=x, but what's really unknown is what plus what equals friendship with an x. Is this an unsolvable equation? Or is it possible to transform a once passionate love into something that fits nice and easily onto the friendship shelf? I couldnt help but wonder... can you be friends with an x?
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