Hi, I’m New York City. You might recognize me from Woody Allen movies, Bob Dylan songs, and your ambitions from when you were still young. Although, most know me as The City from Sex and the City. Whether it’s Carrie, Charlotte, or Miranda searching for commitment, I’m there, strutting my stuff. People always say, “Oh, New York, you’re pretty much the fifth character!” And to that I say, honey, I’m the lead. I’m bigger than Big. There’s a reason it’s not called “Sex and the Suburbs.” I carry that show. Sorry, Sarah.

Speaking of… it’s no surprise that my relationship with the rest of the cast has always been toxic, and that’s coming from a city that borders the Hudson. I always felt I deserved more respect for putting them on the map, literally. They never put my name in the opening credits, never tagged me in photos, and said some unflattering things about my rat problem. When things between us got really tense the producers had to set episodes in LA or Paris until I cooled off, usually in October. After I threatened to walk from the second movie, they had to find reasons for everyone to go to Dubai, and you saw how that went.

Seriously, would you watch a show about a sex columnist in Pocatello? Is falling into a lake as charming without Central Park? Take me out and it’s just white women complaining. I have worked too hard to be in the company of co-stars that make me feel like I should just be in the background. Why spend another me minute with four women who walk all over me when I’ve got another 4.4 million women in my life?

Now, 11 years after the last movie, they want to continue the story? Honey, I’m 397. I haven’t just been around the block—I am the block. Nobody wants to see my Lower East Side anymore, let alone the same women having sex all over me. I’m the city that never sleeps, and even I’m tired of Miranda’s marriage. So, no, I will not be returning for the revival, and certainly not on HBO Max.

But people say, “Oh, New York! You have to return. You must!” First of all, I am New York. I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to lower my prices, treat people with basic decency, or even fix the subway. And do you know why? Because I’m a star. Where else are you going to go, Chicago? Besides, I’ve already had my lawyers remove me from the show’s name.

I don’t care how they have to explain my absence. They can kill me off for all I care, swallowed by the ocean or destroyed by that squid thing from Watchmen. Hell, they can move the show to Boston and call it “Sex and a City.” God knows that city could use the work.

As for me, I’m doing what I do best: Moving forward. You can see me in new shows, like Succession. They may play backstabbing liars, but I’ve never worked with a more professional bunch.

Honestly, I wish all my cast members nothing but success. I even endorsed Cynthia Nixon when she ran for governor of me. There’s no bad blood, and I will always cherish the time we spent together, from shooting in Staten Island to the time we all won the Emmy (one of hundreds I’ve won). But remember: just because we played friends on TV doesn’t mean we are ones in real life.

Oh, and for all you Friends fans, I don’t even know them.


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