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And Just Like That … Recap: Rat Queen

And Just Like That

The Rat Race
Season 3 Episode 2
Editor’s Rating 4 stars
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And Just Like That

The Rat Race
Season 3 Episode 2
Editor’s Rating 4 stars
Photo: Craig Blankenhorn/Max

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Obviously, production on season three of And Just Like That … was completely wrapped up before last week’s premiere aired, and yet still I feel like our collective complaints about the insanity and vagueness surrounding Carrie and Aidan’s long-distance relationship are partially responsible for getting some much-needed clarification on the rules and regulations of this situation this week. We manifested that! You’re welcome, Carrie, and also, it seems, Aidan, who made these plans and yet had no idea what they were. Do I think these two have any shot at staying together for five years with this current setup? No, not at all. But, hey, at least Aidan apologizes for going “overboard” with the restrictions and makes up for leaving her hanging during last week’s phone-sex sesh.

Things are looking up for ol’ Car Bear. Okay, actually, at first, things are looking quite grim. For starters, we never learn if she was able to finish herself off after the most horrifying phone call put on film since Drew Barrymore had to decide what her favorite scary movie was, or if she has too much PTSD to ever orgasm again. I wouldn’t blame her if that was the case; I remain emotionally scarred by it, and I was but an observer of the entire debacle. On top of that lingering memory, Carrie is having a lovely day in her idyllic backyard writing what I guess is her next book about a woman who lived in her home in the 1800s whom she has yet to name or do even one second of research for, when a stampede of rats emerges from her garden. I wish this was a euphemism for her ability to get that O, but sadly, I mean it literally. It is disgusting. Luckily, things turn around after that moment, mainly because she has exterminators handle it (by ripping out her entire garden) immediately, and the next day Aidan surprises her with a visit.

The man has some sense! He tells Carrie he felt “weird” about their last phone call and since Wyatt was spending the weekend with his mom, he snuck up to New York for the night. He scoops her up in his arms and takes her to the bedroom. It’s kind of lovely, actually. It’s never been hard to see why Carrie falls for Aidan over and over again. And by that, I mean their height differential. Not everyone can be scooped up like that!!

The best part of this whole thing is that Aidan admitting to being weird and then whisking Carrie off to the bedroom isn’t the end of the conversation about their relationship. They have a very adult conversation about the state of their union. It’s nice! Carrie admits that she’s confused. She’s been over here angst-ing about whether it’s appropriate to send him texts about what’s going on in her life (mainly, the rats), meanwhile he can just pop in when he wants? He agrees that it’s confusing and that in the midst of all the guilt and hurt he was feeling over not being around for Wyatt’s accident, he, maybe, overreacted and overcorrected. He still wants to be down in Virginia, focused on his kids, but he also thinks texts are totally fine. She should call him when she needs to. More visits aren’t off the table. This all seems much more tenable. Much more like your standard long-distance relationship. Five years, though, five years seems like a long, long time, especially when they begin to run into problems even after the new rules are established.

The first problem? Texting is hard. Well, it’s hard if one of you enjoys crafting novel-length voice-to-text messages about how a table you’d like to buy represents the essence of both you and your boyfriend, and the other one communicates in single emoji. Though I find it hard to believe a carpenter would respond to a text about a table solely with a thumbs down, this seems like a small annoyance that could grow into a bigger communication issue. The other impending problem Carrie and Aidan are facing is much more … tactile.

This problem arrives in the form of the bearded landscape architect, a man who does refer to himself as Adam Gardens in public but is easily forgiven since “beard” and “willing to handle dirt” are two of the top qualities I’m looking for in a man. Adam here is charming and a little unkempt and a native New Yorker, which you know is getting Carrie all hot and bothered when he arrives to rebuild her post-rat backyard. While they both engage in some harmless, entry-level flirting, by the time Adam starts talking about how not knowing what comes next is exciting and “what is meant to be has the space to show up,” you just know there will be some opportunities for lines to be crossed, should someone be interested in that.

Elsewhere, in a welcome change from last week’s premiere, everyone else is engaged in some delightful shenanigans. To be honest, friends, the premiere left me uneasy: Were we gearing up for an absolute slog of a season? But if the rest of season three feels like “The Rat Race,” this could be fun! I’m hopeful, is all I’m saying. Take Seema, for example. Fed up with what she refers to as “hate-dating,” which is much like hate-watching but done primarily in bar seating. Seema hands a bunch of potential suitors their asses in the form of succinctly put dress-downs — including a man named Dan who pretends his name is Wolf, in case you want to know how dire the dating scene is — and then, exhausted, agrees to be set up by her boss.

Seema’s boss, however, isn’t looking to set Seema up with a guy, but rather with a renowned matchmaker named Sydney Cherkov. (Sydney’s played by Cheri Oteri, a welcome addition to this show or any show, really.) And yes, her name does sound like jerk off, and yes, the show explicitly points this out instead of just trusting its audience. Trust us to get your obvious jokes, I am begging!

Seema isn’t exactly receptive to Sydney butting into her love life, which isn’t surprising, but much like she can read her dates for exactly who they are, Sydney understands Seema’s deal within seconds of sitting down with her. With nothing to lose, and impressed with Sydney’s obvious skills, Seema not only agrees to let Sydney set her up but also follows her rules and dons some pastels and pearls. Sydney believes Seema’s wardrobe full of metallics and animal prints screams “cold” and “predator.” Changing who you are for someone else never really works out in the long run, so it’s nice to see Seema give up the charade before the dessert course even arrives. Once Seema reveals to her date that she isn’t usually “this quiet and agreeable” and was only pretending because she knows “men like to feel in charge,” her date pulls the old “I gotta use the bathroom” move and bolts out of the restaurant. Sydney Cherkov emerges from the wings to take Seema to task for not adhering to “the Cherkov Experience.” Seema calls an end to this matchmaking disaster right then and there, but I’m hoping Sydney pops in again with a better understanding of who Seema actually is.

While “Cherkov” gave me a little chuckle the first time we hear it, I’m partial to Fingerhood. Lois Fingerhood, that is. Fingerhood (Kristen Schaal), a.k.a. the Finger, is known around the likes of the Arbor School as the Ivy Whisperer — she knows exactly what high-school students need to get into the college of their dreams. Or, rather, of their parents’ dreams. Charlotte and Lisa were under the impression that using outside help for college admissions was frowned upon, but when they learn other parents are enlisting the help of the Finger, they raise holy hell with the principal (Tim Bagley, an angel) … until they learn that he’s cool with it, too. “Fuck the rules as long as you get into an Ivy,” seems to be the actual rules in this situation.

Knowing they’re already behind in procuring Fingerhood’s services, they stalk this lady all the way to her son’s little-league game and beg her to see Lily and Herbert Jr., but Charlotte and Lisa will regret this decision. After a 45-minute session with the Finger, the ladies come to find their children in the midst of full-blown panic attacks and existential crises. They have been going about college applications all wrong. They’ll never get in! They are too well-rounded. Charlotte and Lisa refuse to let their kids melt down like this. “Fuck Lois fucking Fingerfuck!” Charlotte screams loud enough for the actual Lois fucking Fingerfuck to hear — she will not be working with the York-Goldenblatts or the Todd Wexleys anymore. A low point for all involved but a high one for us: I will certainly be replaying the moment Kristin Davis yells Fingerfunk for the next several days. A true gift at a time when we really needed one.

This and That

• Miranda bounces back from having sex with a Virgin Mary by hitting on a straight, married mother of two while this woman makes her tableside guac at Rosa Mexicano after the two hit it off chatting about Miranda’s new TV obsession, trashy reality-dating show Bi Bingo. It’s a bit of a rough patch, but here’s hoping she goes for it with Joy from the BBC — they have a nice rapport! — but until then, I hope she binges Bi Bingo until she feels better, like the rest of us slugs!

• Was Carrie saying Aidan’s surprise appearance almost gave her a heart attack a dig at Big? A Big dig?! Or has this show wiped Big from everyone’s memories? Discuss!

• Every single choice Tim Bagley makes as the Arbor School principal in his one scene is perfect. May we get several more Greg’s Inappropriate Tuesdays before this thing is through.

• Anthony has gone and gotten his bread-baking business a brick-and-mortar location. Do I suspect this development was simply so Anthony could make his “dick and mortar” joke? Yes. Do I approve of that decision? Also yes.

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