Samantha Jones is My Spiritual Advisor

If he seems too good to be true, he probably is.

Samantha Jones

Remember when Sex and the City was a phenom of pop culture? Before the recent lukewarm reboot, which I still watched because I am loyal to a fault. I am the same woman who watched Lost until the bitter, less than satisfying end; I am still watching The Walking Dead even though it has kind of jumped the shark. I must admit I am really still watching because I have a enormous crush on Norman Reedus/Daryl Dixon. I do so love a dirty redneck who knows his way around a crossbow.

ps – if you do not know what “jump the shark” means, you know what you need to do.

The SATC reboot was “meh’ for me for a couple different reasons. First off, the character Charlotte has become rather, well, shrill. I did like Miranda’s character arc, which coincides with Cynthia Nixon’s personal journey. But they killed off Big and my love of Chris Noth runs DEEP, dear readers. I was team Big all along.

The thing I hated most was the lack of the amazing Kim Cattrall as the indomitable Samantha Jones. I get the in-fighting about money and billing and blah blah blah… but it still was just not the same.

Don’t like me? Get in line with the rest of those bitches over there.

Shannon or Samantha Jones… you decide.

Back in the day, (aka the early 2000’s when the show was a hit) one of the things many of us ladies did after a few cocktails was loudly proclaim which character we were. More than a few of my friends were total Charlottes. They believed in the happy ever after and were optimistic and trusting and knew true love existed. I knew a couple Carries – witty and stylish and always had the last word. I thought of myself as a Miranda. Jaded, not always so trusting. Wondering if Mr. Right was actually Mr. Right or really just Mr. Right Now. But the Samantha in me was lurking in the background.

I don’t believe in the Republican party or the Democratic party, I just believe in parties.

Samantha Jones

During my high school and college years, I was probably a cross between Charlotte and Samantha. Ready to kiss all the boys, but also firmly believing that true love was out there waiting for me. I did the walk of shame a few times, but just knew that the guy would call me again (spoiler alert… they usually did not).

I had my heart broken hard more than once and suddenly the Miranda in me appeared in all her glory, cynical and doubting, doubtful about love and “happy ever after.” And Miranda I remained for more than a few years. But that’s not really me. The Samantha in me longed to break free.

“You know marriage doesn’t guarantee a happy ending, just an ending.”

Samantha Jones

I cannot pinpoint the moment she arrived, but she did.

Today, Samantha Jones is my spiritual advisor. As I have “matured,” the Samantha in me has taken over and I channel her words of wisdom and her attitude daily.

I knocked out of church and organized religion years ago. While I do not consider myself an atheist, I am most certainly agnostic. Church is not a comfortable place for me, nor will it ever be. I do not anticipate making a late-life jump back into church-going; I cannot fathom how an organization can tell me how much money I should give them just for the pleasure of their company. And, as I witness evangelical “Christians” in this country attempt to divest me and my daughters of our bodily autonomy and somehow serve up America sans separation of church and state in some VERY loose interpretation of the documents our founding fathers left, I can very easily say, FUCK NO.

There are no ugly girls in hell.

My Friend Sharon (but that sounds an awful lot like a Samantha quote, does it not?)

If you’re worried I am heading for hell, don’t. I am not worried in the slightest. My main concern once I exit this life is that my daughters organize a kick ass goodbye party with an open bar, great music and tears of laughter. It does not include people peering at me in a dumb silk lined box box after someone completely underqualified has done my hair and makeup. They have been directed to cremate me and my latest wish is to have my ashes made into a diamond. Yep, that’s a thing, dear readers. Google that shit! Of course, that immediately makes me think of this stellar quote:

Cameron is so tight that if you shoved a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks, you would have a diamond.

Ferris Bueller

(so maybe not Samantha Jones, but pretty awesome nonetheless)

Regardless, while I do not feel the need to follow the teachings of any organized religion, I feel very comfortable on the path I have chosen. It led me to realize that I am pretty fucking fabulous, thank you very much.

Daily, I ask myself, WWSD? What would Samantha do? Well, right off the bat, she would not apologize for wearing heels, false eyelashes, showing some cleavage and wearing a bold lipstick or being sexy. Sex is fun and every woman should not only own a vibrator, she should own several. The running joke in my circle of friends is that if the power goes out in my neighborhood, it’s probably because I am recharging one of my USB-connected toys. She should not be ashamed to want , even DEMAND, multiple orgasms. You deserve those orgasms ladies! And if your partner cannot find your clitoris even with a map and a GPS, it’s time to kick their ass to the curb. You. Deserve. Better.

Who we are in bed is who we are in life. I’ve never met a guy who was bad in bed who was good in life

Samantha Jones

In closing, Samantha Jones is the ultimate fictional representation of Resist Invisible.

Be Bold.

Be Sexy.

Be Unapologetic.

Be Yourself.

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