Carrie is nursing a dirty martini, staring at her phone. On the screen is a text from "Mr. Big" (real name: Weston). Status check. Q3 goals. Your place. 9p. Carrie reads it aloud. “That’s it. No ‘hello.’ No ‘I miss you.’ It’s a goddamn stand-up meeting.”
“What?” they ask.
“Did he mark you to market?” Miranda asks, horrified. “That’s a violation of the Geneva Convention of dating. Liquidate him.” HDSex and the City
Charlotte sighs dreamily. “I swiped right on a man who grows heirloom tomatoes. He promised a ‘biodynamic connection.’ We split the check 50/50, but he made me pay for the carbon offset. Is that a red flag?” Carrie is nursing a dirty martini, staring at her phone