why men should love sex and the city

First of all, let me just say that I realize most people don't consider "sex and the city" and "conversation to be taken seriously" to be complimentary terms. But hear me out.

I went to see the sequel this afternoon, despite every review that warned me otherwise. I knew what to expect: shallow dialogue, shameless slow-motion shots of ripped men in speedos, and wildly inappropriate fashion choices. I was not dissapointed.

However, the movie for me did come back to an underlying staple of the franchises' progression since about the 4th season: the stability of the male counterparts. Without having to include a spoiler alert, a conflict arises between Carrie and Big that threatens their relationship. However, the resolution of this conflict proves once again that, more often than their female counterparts, the husbands of satc are the ones to learn the real lessons from.

Take Steve, for example. Despite his one-time marital infidelity, he proves to be a loyal and loving husband who tells Miranda what she needs to hear, even when she's at her most stubborn. He actively fights to live up to his fatherly duty, and is just overall a lovable dude.

Harry, Charlotte's 2nd husband, proves just as admirable. Unlike her first toolbag husband, he treats her infertility as a shared challenge and balances adoption with supporting his wife's dream of a family. He's not afraid to be himself, but when Charlotte pesters him with her sometimes pretentious protection of the perfect park avenue lifestyle, he finds compromises that don't just let her steamroll his personality.

Throughout the show the fantastic 4 share horror stories of bad relationships over endless bowls of rice pudding. But Carrie, despite all she did to advance the open dialogue of women's sexuality, too often refuses to give up aspects of her own identity while expecting her leading man to give up his. Ironically, the men who survived this show's entourage of potential partners are the ones who are able to find the balance of ever after and every day. Sure they sit naked on the white furniture or won't let you eat orange slices in bed. But at the end of the day, they're the ones who made it through the gauntlet and we would be better women for having loved them.

As a tangent, I could write pages about the cultural implications of the film on our opinions of Muslim women, but that's for another day...