Mr Moron, Mr President, Mr Big

We didn't work out. He needs to NOT exist.
- Miranda, Sex and the City

Stairs, white building, huge crowd. Camille stands around waiting like everyone else. Then she sees Mr Moron (called so because he IS a moron). She dodges his line of sight. Tries to make herself disappear but when it becomes apparent that he sees her and her actions are making her look like a moron, she remembers her old school training and collects her best manners.

Camille: Hello, hello, hello! (Overdoes it.)
Mr Moron: (Speaks really slow and stares about like a moron.) Hi. I just got back.
Camille: Oh! Wow! Wonderful!
Mr Moron: Do you want to come over for old times' sake?
Camille: (Laughs hysterically. A sincere laugh. Thinks it is all a joke. Mr Moron is quiet.) Oh god. You're serious. God! Yuck! Bleh! My boyfriend will kill you for saying that.
Mr Moron: I thought you were married.
Camille: You're the one who's married! You married Ms Bangs and got her pregnant one baby after another. Left, right, left. Bing, bang, boom! You stupid, stupid moron!)

***

We're alone even when we're with men.
- Samantha, Sex and the City

I call him that because he's my most pessimistic student and the self-appointed President of the Bitter Club. Exclusive Membership. I am Muse and the only other club's member. You can only join if you believe you are truly alone and so far we've maintained our exclusivity. It just is so disorienting to see him so old. I remember him as really youthful. The first flush of youth, if you will. Tying his tie. Adjusting his cuffs, making sure the proper length shows outside his coat. Making a pen appear from his coat pocket. Youthful arrogance. Being obnoxious. Man-in-Training. It can't be that I was deceived. He was my student and he looked very, very young.

But I look around and see that all my students are old. What happened? Could it be that I'm old too? If they're old, I must be very old. I run to the mirror to check but I am still me. I haven't gotten old at all.

***
I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.
- Carrie, Sex and the City

You're coming down the stairs, hurrying, hanging on to your books. Your hair is flying. Your white dress is billowing behind you. And then he bumps into you as he's coming from the turn in the landing. Your books fly, your skirt flies up so you drop your purse to push your skirt down. You bend, he bends, you collect books. One after another, like a sacred ritual, you pick up the books, comment on them before finally exchanging. When all the books are off the floor, both of you stand. The spell has been broken and now you're a little embarrassed. So you grin a little and keep going down the stairs. Hurrying, hanging on to your books a little bit more tightly this time.