I guess I'd be Miranda?

We finally saw Sex and the City, which seemed no small accomplishment since it was sold out all over town on its opening weekend. I'd thought it would be fun to be a Manhattan woman going to see a movie about Manhattan women opening night, and apparently, so did a lot of other chicks. We were out to dinner that night and the streets of New York looked like middle-aged prom -- lots of grown-up girls out together in fab outfits and of course their best shoes.

Though the movie hype got to be a bit much, I always liked the TV show for its smart writing, strong women and unusual plots, so after the initial rush died down, I wanted to see this cinematic love letter to my new home.

Yes, I'm a writer and I appreciate a good pair of shoes, but I think that might be where my similarities to Carrie end. Most of the time, I end up rolling my eyes at the various ways she makes her life more complicated than it needs to be. Most of her man crises seem to me self made. Without spoiling one of the key plots, let's just say I didn't think Big was so out of line and Carrie characteristically overreacted.

Still the movie left me really wistful. Maybe the real reason Sex and the City became such a cultural phenomenon -- if you don't believe me, come to New York and watch the hordes of chicks out on SATC walking tours -- is less about whether Carrie and Big end up together and more about our craving of that kind of deep connection with girlfriends.

I've often bemoaned that modern working women make their friendships a low priority. Time for friends comes somewhere after husband, work, kids, errands, extended family, PTA, church ... you get the idea. Whatever scraps aren't claimed by nearly anything else, maybe those can go to lunch with a friend.

I think that's part of the reason book clubs and yoga classes got so popular. It's easier for women to hold a block of time for themselves and their friends if that time's doing something productive -- so saying "Tuesday night is my time to drink wine and dish with the girls" becomes "We're taking a knitting class."

Carrie & Co. need no such pretense. They unapologetically get together for breakfast to talk about love, sex, sometimes work (but very little. does Charlotte even have a job any more?) and just enjoy each other's company.

When one of the girls hits a low point -- I'm trying to keep it generic -- the others drop everything to go on a week-long cheer-up vacation. This might be the real fairy tale love story, not the much-discussed Carrie & Big wedding. These are women who support each other deeply in the hard times, cheer for each other in the good times, care enough to voice their hurts instead of glossing them over, and offer forgiveness in recognition that friends are human and they will screw up occasionally.

I've always been a fairly independent girl. One of my most cringe-worthy middle school memories involves the birthday party of a nice, mildly nerdy boy in my class. He invited me to come, I got the when and where, and at the appointed time, my mom gave me a ride to the party. I arrived to find I was the *only* girl in a room full of maybe 20 boys. It had never occurred to me to do the most obvious middle-school girl thing: ask who else was going.

In spite of being an extrovert who loves having playmates around, I mostly haven't cultivated the kinds of friends who would fly home unannounced to celebrate my engagement.
Maybe that's because I'm an only child, or maybe because I'm a dork lacking in some fundamental social skills. In life's big moments, high and low, I've tended to fly solo -- or now, to share them with John.

After my relationship with Frank imploded, I made a conscious effort to cultivate girlfriends. I began hosting hen parties at my apartment, which morphed into the tradition of the clothing exchange party. Those parties helped pull me closer to several girls, but would any of them take off to Mexico next week if I got dumped?

So in my re-evaluation of my life priorities, I'm putting real, deep friendships near the top of the list. I know I've been guilty of taking too long to return friends' phone calls, neglecting to send an email when I think of people, spending my entire weekend loving John's company but not making time for friends. If I want the kind of friends who make me me a priority, I need to commit to doing the same.