Now that we’ve all witnessed Aidan pleasuring himself in front of a Bronco, it’s time to discuss And Just Like That…—less of a spin-off and more of a Sex and the City extension. This season, our core trio navigates New York with their usual flair: from Carrie overseeing a car masturbation session to rats destroying Margiela heels, along with phrases like “guacamole beard,” fake negronis, and fake orgasms. While there’s not much genuine sex (hinted at by the show’s title change), there’s something deliciously scandalous about Miranda seducing a nun.

In Manhattan, Carrie’s historical novel is coming together as she longs for her carpenter stuck in Virginia. Charlotte and Lisa bumble through college admissions like a comedy duo, and Miranda better hook up with British lawyer Joy—I swear to God. Anthony still talks to everyone as if they’ve just ruined a silent retreat (I bet he runs his bakery like a military operation). And let’s not forget “Adam Gardens,” the rugged landscaper who speaks in fortune cookie wisdom.

Carrie’s fashion game is stronger than ever in Episode 2—she’s serving looks that blend midnight glamour with afternoon elegance, despite that questionable sourdough starter moment on her head. Thanks to Big’s inheritance (I’d kill to see Carrie’s spending habits), she’s living in a lavish, empty house and wearing even more extravagant dresses—the Simone Rocha tulle number was a masterpiece in the Bradshaw saga.

Critics have griped about AJLT’s disjointed plots, and I get it. The characters sometimes act in ways that feel disconnected from their past. Just when we adjust to the new normal—like Miranda introducing herself as a “recently sober, recently divorced, recent lesbian” to her son’s ex-babysitter—something throws us off. What’s missing, perhaps, is a unifying weekly theme. Carrie’s old New York Star column used to tie everything together (remember Season 3’s teen episode? Carrie caught smoking pot, Samantha roasted by a mini-her, Miranda in braces). Now, storylines feel believable but scattered. Seema oozes charisma, but was her Episode 1 breakup—ditching a guy for making her tag along at work—really necessary? And how does that connect to Charlotte’s dog mix-up or Lily brooding at the piano like Vanessa Carlton?

We fell in love with Sex and the City for its escapism—lunchtime cosmos, unattainable wardrobes, that signature New York confidence. The original show broke ground with its sexual honesty, encouraging women to talk openly about their experiences. We adored their fearless promiscuity, their flings, their escapades. Watching And Just Like That…, it’s hard not to compare. Season 3 hasn’t yet delivered SATC’s sharp wit alongside the emotional punches.

I’m craving more iconic lines to text my friends. Where’s the “No one’s fun anymore, what ever happened to fun?” Or “Sometimes I bought Vogue instead of dinner.” Or “I’m dating a guy with the funkiest-tasting spunk.” I’d sleep with Anthony just to whisper “ugly sex is hot” mid-act, or with Big to murmur “Your girl is lovely, Hubbell.” Charlotte realigned my soul when she declared, “I’m not a Madonna and I’m not a whore. I’m your wife, I’m sexual, and I love you.”

And Just Like That… still brings joy as the season unfolds—but I needed Miranda to drop the line: “I fucked a nun.”