Every Woman and Mr. Big

A Donald Trump who only looked better.

I remember that this was how Samantha referred to Mr. Big back in Season 1--before Carrie's neverending on-and-off relationship with him started.

Oh I love Mr. Big. His larger than life character in Sex and the City is actually one which I can so relate some historic boylettes to. I love him in spite of all the Carrie love affair drama because somehow I find myself in the same pair of shoes that Carrie was in. (Let it be MANOLOS. Please!)

Last night, a friend was so full of similes in her SMS - her beau and Mr. Big being the two subjects of comparison. Months ago, another girl friend was doing the same thing.

And so it hit me: I am not alone. Mr. Big is someone every woman share.

The character of Mr. Big was created as an embodiment of a cosmopolitan woman's dream bachelor. Tall, good-looking, successful and rich - don't we all have thought of ourselves ending up with someone who meets the criteria. (Well, unless you're into short, ugly and miserable.) Look at how they kept him as Mr. Big and never revealed what his real name is. It was for us to keep a connection with him. Yet, when his name was later revealed in the movie, this connection seems to have lost. Mr. Big became Mr. Preston who gives Carrie a happily ever after ending - something which we all just are not sure to have.

But Mr. Big is every woman's Mr. Big not because of his fantastical stature. Women of 20s and 30s all over can connect to him simply because he represents that one special man who's came in and gone out of our lives for reasons we never know. He's the guy who seems to have loved us - shown it in ways not known in the books we read as little girls - but had a hard time (if not never) verbally expressing it. Every woman knows that he feels something for them but for some vague, incomprehensible reason, he cannot commit.

Yes, we felt like an ultimate priestess in high heels and tutu-like skirts (imagine the classic Carrie Bradshaw look) when he did all those lovely things to us. But after his disappearing act, we feel so reduced to nothing but well, a hot potato.

So after so many nights of partying hard with our girl friends, going home wasted and drunkdialling Mr. Big (not to mention the number of Kleenex boxes we consumed, the packs of cigarettes we shamlessly smoked, the number of times we sang Carly Simon's Nobody Does It Better while lying down drunk on our bedroom floor and the moments that we secretly felt like Bridget Jones), we realize that it's time for you to move on.

We meet someone like Adan. We think he's not as big as Mr. Big but we realize that he's actually the one who's good for us. We're contented and everyone knows we're happy. Then all of a sudden, coming from what-sort-of-void there is in our little worlds, our Mr. Big makes a re-appearance.

How many times have women been haunted by their past? How many times have we moved on only to find ourselves faced with our past once again? So that if we have made 15 slow and painful steps away from the past, we find ourselves quickly sliding 20 steps back.

Imagine going through this for so many times. Good god. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the rollercoaster ride of your dreams!

One unforgettable SATC episode was when Carrie told Mr. Big that he makes the worst timing whenever he comes back to her life. He reappears everytime Carrie is already happy and in a sense, ruins everything that she has worked hard for. (In this case, I think the void must've been our very own contentment... hmm?)

That Carrie moment struck a chord in me and I guess among countless other women too. It happened more than once, you know.

When Carrie finally made the big move to Paris with the older artiste, Aleksandr Petrovsky, I was happy for her but at the back of my head, I could not resist having my own what-ifs for her. Petrovky sounded like a Harlequin dream guy. He's the guy who seems to be the redeemer of fallen women.

It was a good thing that the movie ended with Mr. Big reappearing just when Carrie needed him the most. It was perfect timing for a perfect ending.

Now, won't you tell me who your Mr. Big is?


Author's Note: The article was revised from its originial write-up posted last year at one of her many, many blogs.