217 - Twenty-Something Girls Vs Thirty-Something Women
This is a story about a lovely couple, Rob and Elaine...
...who rented a house one especially hot and sticky summer in the Hamptons.
Elaine invited her best single friends, Cindy and Janet...
...while Rob invited his single friends, Ira and Matthew...
...to share the good times and exorbitant rent.
Until one day, this lovely couple had a terrible fight...
...when Elaine went for a run and twisted her ankle...
...and came back early to find Rob canoodling with Janet.
And Cindy got tired of Matthew's idiotic jokes and incessant market chatter.
Ira tried to be there for Elaine and confessed his true feelings for her...
...which she tried to laugh off as a joke.
By August, it got to the point where everything was so awkward...
...that nobody wanted to come back.
And that's when Janet called her friend Charlotte.
It's a really cute three-bedroom cottage.
They're giving us a fantastic deal for the month of August.
Because it's haunted with cheating boyfriends and sexual rejection.
We can always burn sage.
Sharing a house with your girlfriends is fine in your 20s...
...but in your 30s, isn't it a bit pathetic, like being the oldest kid at summer camp?
She has a point.
My 25-year-old assistant, Nina Grabowski...
...has a summer share in Bridgehampton with 18 other girls.
They sleep in shifts.
-What if they meet someone? -They fuck in shifts, too.
Hold it.
I can't believe you guys would pass up a chance to get out of this heat.
Besides, the city's completely dead during August.
-Because everyone's in the Hamptons. -Or stuck in traffic trying to get there.
This could be the last summer we can all get together and do something like this.
I mean, next year, who knows? One of us could be married or have kids.
And we'll always regret that last summer we didn't spend together in the Hamptons.
Charlotte's sweet hopefulness touched something in all of us.
-Okay, I'm in. -Me, too.
Fine, but I get the late shift.
Samantha always felt like she was in her 20s...
...until seeing an actual twenty-something brought her down to earth.
No, I'm getting you on the VIP list. You have to try it for one night.
My best friend Jerry owns it. He also owns the one in South Beach.
Yes, the same one.
Proof and confirm the guest list for the Hetrick-Martin benefit.
And get me Richard Johnson, ASAP.
He is not a fag, because I happen to have three friends he's personally fucked.
You are nasty. You are.
I'm sending you a car, to and fro, and if you hate it, I'm gonna let you blow me. I am.
I am serious. Off, now.
Alec, I've gotta go. I'll keep you posted, okay?
Bye, honey.
I have personal relationships of my own, you know.
-Not with my clients, you don't. -I have my career to worry about.
Your career is being my assistant.
You're so deluded. You wouldn't even know what's hot if it wasn't for me.
Unfortunately you don't seem to grasp the vast difference between us.
Yes, I do.
You stood in line at Studio 54...
...I stood in line at Studio 54, the movie.
I gave that bitch her first job out of college. She didn't know a fucking thing!
Girls in their 20s, they're spoiled and ungrateful. They think they're it.
Don't they realize, we're still it?
No, because the world validates their delusion.
And she took a copy of my Rolodex. Do you think I can sue?
-Do you remember us in our 20s? -Dimly.
Have some compassion.
The only thing worse than being single in your 30s is being single in your 20s.
Where've you been? I was worried you'd miss the jitney.
The Hamptons Jitney is like the bus to summer camp...
...only instead of singing everyone ignores each other and talks on their cell.
Everyone, this is Greg.
This is Samantha, Carrie and Miranda.
Hi!
Greg's been going to the Hamptons every summer for 20 years.
-Since I was six. -You do the math.
I have.
Thank you.
Easy, sister, no need to push.
Four bumper-to-bumper hours later, we arrived at our new digs.
They said this place was shabby chic, I'm thinking it's much more shitty chic.
These towels are mildewed.
Actually, this whole house smells like mildew.
It's not mildew, it's beachy.
Would you all stop being so cynical? We're Iucky to be here.
Cynicism. Now there's one advantage we have over girls in their 20s.
I was cynical in high school.
Who's that?
It's Greg, that cute guy I met on the jitney. I told him to drop by.
And if he asks, he thinks I'm 27.
Evidently, while we had taken the Midtown Tunnel...
...Charlotte had taken the time tunnel.
-Hi! -Hey.
Come on in. You guys remember Greg.
Hi, Greg.
Hey!
Me and my housemates are having a big bonfire tonight at the beach...
...and I just wanted to tell you that you're all invited.
Excellent!
Here you go, ladies.
There's so much foam you could ski on the head!
Sorry, it's been awhile since I pumped a keg.
I love young men, but come on. The guys here don't even have chest hair yet!
That's good news for their backs.
Sorry!
Okay, this is really fun. How long do we have to stay?
God!
I'm gonna go tell Charlotte we're leaving.
Another thing about twenty-something girls is they're very considerate.
You can always count on one of them to hold your hair when you vomit.
Excuse me!
My God, Carrie Bradshaw!
-Yeah? -Laurel Harris.
May I just tell you that I worship you?
I read your column every week, it's like my religion.
Thank you.
I work in a publishing house, but I'm really a writer.
-Great. -We'll see.
Maybe I could send you something to read sometime?
-Sure. -That would mean so much to me.
To have someone like you as my mentor.
Well, mentor.
Could I call you sometime in the city?
If I could spend some time with you, that would be so cool.
Of course. I'll be looking at a very busy summer.
I can help. I'll run errands, I'll do your wash.
No menial labor necessary. I'll just give you my phone number.
My God, this is so cool.
Thank you.
-It's okay. -Thank you.
The next day, Miranda woke up early to enjoy the cool morning breeze...
...and a much-needed moment of solitude.
all right, somebody puked on the deck.
Sorry...
...Stacey and Holly did too many Jell-O shots.
What are you, 25 now?
Good morning.
No, 27!
Whatever.
That week, back in the city, I wondered what was the allure of the 20s?
On one hand, there's great skin tone, the thrill of fresh experience...
...and the sense of a consequence-free life full of endless possibilities.
While on the other, there are horrible apartments, sexually inexperienced men...
...and embarrassing errors in fashion judgment.
Should we fear these freshly minted, single women as a threat to our very survival...
...or pity them as clueless half-wits about to get their dreams dashed...
...and illusions shattered?
Twenty-something girls...
...friend or foe?
And that evening, in my first act as a mentor...
...I took my young acolyte to a book party.
My God.
I can't believe I'm out with Carrie Bradshaw. This is too cool.
Stop, I can feel my head swelling.
If it gets any bigger, I'll have to say goodbye to my hats.
I have a question.
Do you think that 25 is too young to write a personal memoir?
As long as it doesn't deal with incest, Prozac, or partying, no.
It does deal with sex, or rather not having sex.
It's about how girls my age are saving themselves for marriage.
-Saving what for marriage? -Our virginity.
Are you telling me that you've never had sex with a man?
That is correct.
Okay, what do you consider sex?
Are you implying I'm some kind of Lewinsky?
I'm not! I'm talking no blowjobs, no hand jobs.
all right, I get it, no jobs of any kind.
You know what? I think I need to get a drink.
-I'll get it. Cosmopolitan, right? -Yeah.
I remember from your column.
A 25-year-old virgin was getting me a Cosmopolitan.
The generation gap had never seemed so wide.
Hi.
-Have you actually read the book? -No, have you?
Not yet.
Know anything about the author?
His family has a history of diabetes and he has a steel splint in his left femur.
-I'm his doctor, Bradley Meego. -Carrie Bradshaw.
My doctor won't even make house calls, let alone attend a book party.
I've never been to one. I thought it might be interesting.
It's exceeded all my expectations.
Generally, it's cheese and crackers. You never see an actual shrimp.
No, I meant you.
I'd ask you for a drink after but I'm driving to the Hamptons.
I'm going out to the Hamptons tomorrow.
Great, can I call you there?
all right, you know what?
I'll be with my friends Saturday at Townline Beach.
A big yellow umbrella. You can come by and say hello.
Is this a ploy to see me in my bathing suit?
-Here's your Cosmo. -Thank you.
Dr. Bradley Meego, this is Laurel.
-Hi. -Hey.
What if it rains? Do we pick another date?
Doctor, you are persistent.
all right. In case of emergency, only.
Now I'm gonna have to buy the book.
Nice meeting you. You, too.
Drive safe.
My God, he is such a fox.
Did you meet him when I was at the bar?
Lady, you've got it going on!
That Saturday turned out to be hot and sunny.
While we sat under our umbrella...
...twenty-something girls sizzled on the sand like rotisserie chickens.
Excuse me, when did tanning come back in style?
Hand me the 45!
Forty-five, I didn't know it went up that high.
You could sit in a microwave and not burn.
It's Charlotte's, but I don't think she'll be using it.
It's not good for her 27-year-old image.
She actually put on oil.
Just let her have her fun now.
Come Labor Day, she's gonna look like a 27-year-old handbag.
I'd risk a few precancerous freckles for a summer romance.
And right then, my summer romance made his appearance, right on schedule.
Yellow umbrellas seem to be very popular this year.
This is Dr. Bradley Meego.
Hello.
What kind of a doctor are you, Doctor?
Internal medicine. General, all-purpose kind of thing.
Fabulous, so you can prescribe medication?
-What'd you have in mind? -Feel free to ignore her.
I'm sure that's impossible. I'm gonna go take a quick dip.
-You promise not to ditch me, now. -I promise.
-Is that the guy from the book party? -Yeah.
I've got to start reading.
He's cute. I'm just not really sure I'm interested.
Good-looking, polite, house in the Hamptons.
-It's good on paper. -You know the rule.
Good on paper, bad in bed.
A "good on paper guy" is a guy with great credentials...
...who you always end up leaving for some hot guy...
...who rides a motorcycle and doesn 't have a checking account.
My God!
The water feels so awesome. You guys should really go in.
You better put on some sunscreen, Georgette Hamilton.
That's okay, I never burn.
Well, I do. In fact, I've had enough for today.
I'm gonna go grocery shopping. You guys want anything?
We should get some rum. We can make Long Island Iced Teas.
Yes, I love Long Island Iced Teas.
Excellent!
I took a leap of faith and made reservations...
...at one of those impossible-to-get-into restaurants for tonight.
I'd love to...
...I just can't abandon my friends.
Actually, that wasn't an invitation. It was just restaurant chitchat.
I'm kidding.
How about after dinner?
I've got a great little house, cute porch we could sit on.
I don't know.
Okay, how about I just call your...
...in-case-of-emergency number this weekend.
The emergency being, I think I'm gonna miss you.
Yes, you could definitely do that.
Good.
Romantic, polite, and his very own house south of the highway.
My good-on-paper guy was jumping right off the page.
Later that afternoon, we came back from the beach rested, rejuvenated...
...feeling almost 29 again.
Even Miranda was in good spirits.
Guys, I just got back from the market. Fresh corn and seafood for dinner.
Except, your groupie can't stay. I only got enough for the four of us.
She's here?
Yeah, she was asking too many inane questions. I sent her up to your room.
-Thanks. -Sorry.
I've got to shower, the sand is itchy in my bathing suit, and then I'll help you.
Take your time. That came for you.
My God!
What's wrong?
It's for the Hamptons Hoedown tomorrow night...
...and the event is being run by Nina G. Public Relations. Nina G.!
Overnight, Samantha's ex-assistant, Nina Grabowski...
...had reinvented herself as Nina G.
I was up for that job and now she's using my Rolodex to put together the guest list.
While Samantha was getting fucked royally by her protege...
...mine was giving me the royal treatment.
It's not that I don't wanna have sex with men...
...I feel like these previous generations of women have...
...devalued sex to the point where it's not even special anymore.
One summer, when I was 15, I read everything Jackie Collins ever wrote.
I thought to myself, who cares?
Is it supposed to be shocking...
...wagging one's pussy at every good-looking stud who walks by?
-Please. -And what is it you like about my column?
I have a tiny tick on my stomach, and I can't get it off.
-Does it hurt? -No, but it itches.
My God, that is not a tick.
What is it?
There go our shitty sheets.
My God, it's so disgusting.
-Where's she going? -To the drugstore.
Charlotte really is in her 20s. She's got crabs.
My God!
That night, I called Dr. Meego.
I figured it was an emergency.
I have this thing about crabs.
I had them in college and it scarred me for life.
I can't go back to that house until the mattresses are sanitized...
...and the sheets and towels are burned.
I'm flattered you thought of me.
I'd be happy to prescribe your friend some industrial-strength pubicide.
She can take care of herself.
Cheers.
You might have to spend the night here.
I might have to, but only to sleep.
Women always say that and as soon as the lights go out...
...boom, they're going for my pajamas.
all righty. I promise, no funny stuff.
That night we slept together, but we didn't sleep together.
It was really nice.
I believe it was the first instance of a case of crabs moving a relationship forward.
Every year, one of the local Hamptons billionaires got down and dirty...
...and threw a big hoedown full of cowboys and caviar.
It was the event of the season.
We joined Samantha to lend our moral support.
I can't believe it.
There're people here who don't even come to my parties and they came to Nina's.
Look at her over there.
Beef jerky carpaccio?
I am just so depressed right now. Excuse me.
Where are you going?
To congratulate Nina. I may need her to hire me someday.
While Samantha set out to negotiate twenty-something detente...
...Charlotte prepared to launch a full-out war.
Excuse me.
Do you know that you gave me crabs?
-What? -You heard me.
-What makes you think it was me? -That is so tacky.
So is Iying about your age.
I saw your license when you bought the beer.
I didn't lie. You made an assumption, I didn't contradict it.
Whatever.
I may have given you crabs, but you deceived me.
-That is so much worse. -Grow up.
You are a waitperson. That doesn't mean wait, it means go!
My God, you actually came.
I just stopped by to wish you good Iuck. It's a fabulous party.
That is very cool of you.
I told you not to seat Martha near the hayride. She's allergic.
Please try to keep the young people out until after 11:00.
We're all out of country-fried goat cheese, somebody got stuck with a cactus needle...
...and there are people outside who aren't on the list.
Jesus fucking Christ. You are totally coked out.
You are totally jealous.
My God, what is that?
What is that sound? My God!
That's not supposed to happen until 12:00.
-I know. -This is your problem. Get them to stop!
I can't, they're on a fucking barge!
Could you help me? I need to get everybody outside.
I'm totally fucked right now.
Okay, people, fiesta fireworks, outside!
Let's go!
This is Greg.
I think the two of you would really hit it off.
Hi.
I began to realize, that the biggest threat twenty-something girls posed...
...was to themselves.
I've been looking all over for you.
-Look, I got one just like yours. -That's great.
You want me to get you a Cosmopolitan?
No. I'm gonna go find my date. But I'll see you later, okay?
That guy from the bookstore? My God, he was so cute.
Annoying, yes. Dangerous, no.
They were simply our youthful doppelgangers...
...who needed our compassion more than anything.
And then everything I so firmly believed was promptly blown to pieces.
Is it you?
Hey. What are you doing here?
What am I doing here? What are you doing here?
I just got back this week from Paris.
This is Natasha.
Hi. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard so much about you.
Really?
Natasha's parents have a house in East Hampton. We came up for the weekend.
Excuse me. It's nice to meet you.
I'm sorry, I'm just a little stunned here.
And confused.
Who is she?
I meant to call you.
She's this girl that I met in Paris.
She works for Ralph Lauren in Europe.
You're in from Paris for the weekends?
No. The Paris deal fell through.
I planned on calling you.
I certainly didn't want to run into you like this.
You can't plan everything. Life can be pretty random.
I'm here on a date, too, somewhere.
He's a doctor, Bradley Meego.
He's good on paper, probably like Natasha. Good-looking, sweet, blah-blah-blah.
How old is she, anyway?
I don't know, 26, 27.
Something like that.
I'll see you in the Hamptons or back in the city.
I promise to call when I get back into town.
Are you okay?
No, I just ran into Big.
He's back from Paris.
He has a new girlfriend.
She's 26.
-Where is he? I didn't see-- -God.
And then I realized...
...twenty-something girls are just fabulous...
...until you see one with the man who broke your heart.