And Just Like That… All We Talk About Is Death

Sex and the City gave us aspirational chaos. And Just Like That gives us prostate cancer and polyamorous teenagers. Is this really what middle age is supposed to look like?

Nobody wants to see a man nearing sixty spit into his hand to masturbate in a car. But neither does the long string of bereavements that haunts And Just Like That feel like a fair portrayal of life after fifty. Or at least I hope it’s not, because if it is, then we Millennials better hope the Creator takes us back into the fold soon (I mean God, not the creator of the show, unless we’ve been really really bad).

We who watched, loved or hated Sex and The City for the way it portrayed the life that was still to come. When we were in our twenties, what we expected from the future was a lot of cocktails and brunches in the most vibrant city in the world, bad dates that could turn into life lessons filled with irony and insight, extravagant clothes and fast-paced conversations. Maybe a column on a newspaper.

And now here’s what awaits us: a string of funerals, prostate cancer, adult diapers, long-distance relationships. Is this hell? Maybe I’m being too optimistic, but I’d say real life is …