Don’t play hard to get with a man who’s hard to get.

If only I followed each rule that Sex in the City graciously adorned the show with, perhaps there'd be no need to watch it anymore. And then I'd be able to stop trying to relate to characters that don't exist, with conflicts that are created in an office by paid writers sitting around a table with martinis on their mind.

However, the genius writers know this. They know how sensitive we are. They know we're looking for solutions, advice, Chinese takeout chats; anything to let us know we're not alone. They know exactly what problems we'll never resolve. They know we masochistically go through the same type of boy, the same shitty emotions, the same self-inflicting mantras. They know we will go even further and watch skinny versions of ourselves on television go through the same problems. We'll watch them over and over again, and have favourite episodes and favourite issues that make us cringe on the inside and teary moments when the wine hits us just right. And we'll nod at the screen when the man leaves without explanation, shake our heads at the bitch who stole him away, and sigh to the sad song as the credits roll.

So yes, the rules the show creates make sense. The thing is, 'sense' rarely comes into play when it comes to matters of the heart.