piano bar.

It has always been funny to me that people say that Carrie Bradshaw makes bad decisions in her fabricated Sex and the City world. It's like they've never had a someone who was always there just around the corner, reminding them of what it's like to have a crush, what it's like to feel both superbly sexy and comfortable, what electricity feels like when it translates into connecting fingertips. If Big was chasing me all over New York City, I think I'd probably fall into his arms at some point, too. And I don't want to hear that you don't find him attractive. Imagine that one person who awoke you from your dreamless sleep. Or maybe you haven't found that person yet. But when you do, you'll know what I mean. And nothing will be able to stop you from playing that hand, no matter the consequences.

I don't think she makes bad decisions. I think she relies too much on her heart and not enough on her mind. She lives a little too much for the electricity, not enough for the right and wrong. And there's nothing wrong with that.