The beauty of being from one generation, but on the cusp of the other, (Gen X, and Millennial respectively) is that I can identify my romantic life from the way both generations function. Even more so because I don’t really fall into place with either generation. I remain on the edge of both. I don’t want marriage and I don’t want children. I don’t even want long-term-living together.
With Modern Romance, I understood how I date right in this moment, but what this was not what I expected it to be like. Sex and the City, which was popular when I was in my 20s, is far more what I imagined my 30s to be like.
In my 20s I often knew who I wasn’t more often than I knew who I was. I wasn’t Carrie. I wasn’t Charlotte. I didn’t think I was Samantha. I could, possibly, be Miranda. Then, by the end, I knew I wasn’t going to be defined by caricatures of modern women. To be fair, each woman is different and well defined. No one female character on the show was the same as the others. We, the viewers, made them into caricatures by trying to force our identities into one of those four boxes.
Let’s forget the movies and even the TV show. I read the book in the middle of the series run. The characters are products of the show. The book was a collection of Bushnell’s columns on modern relationships. Ansari’s book wouldn’t exist as it did if Bushnell had not been able to write what she did. She looked at her version of modern romance, but not from a humorous, sociological point of view. Instead, she did it from a journalists point of view. She interviewed people around her. It explained what was going on and it gave women permission to enjoy it.
If you haven’t ready Sex and the City, I encourage you to do so. Especially if you have watched the show and feel something is missing. Continue to forget the movies. They are… *sigh*. The show often comes off as televised chick lit, but the book is deeper.