Disclosures: I was not a fan of Sex And The City when it was on TV. I thought the women were shallow, dumb, and much more similar to each other in temperament and personality than the "She's the craaaazy one! She's the sweet one!" lineup recognized. (Running the gamut from A to B, as to steal from Dorothy Parker.) I did not see anything relatable in any of them, ever, at any time.

Caveats to disclosures: During its TV lifetime, I wasn't a person who cared about clothes, or a person who had ever lived in New York, or a person who would ever kick John Corbett to the curb.

I did eventually watch a good part of the show's run, and I enjoyed it...occasionally, I guess? It was diverting enough, though I still never liked any of the women, and I still didn't care about clothes. Once I had lived in New York, though, I did find rather hilarious the way that in their world, living in the dreaded "Brooklyn" is the rough equivalent of living at the bottom of a vat of industrial waste and everyone in the entire city of New York thinks so.

I saw the movie, and it was...about what I expected. Absurd, breezy, full of women making very bad choices about relationships that are presented as freeing.

Now that casting news is rolling in about the sequel, is it too early to dread it?

Is it too early to dread the endless insistence that it resonated with every woman, that we all sat around for years discussing with our friends whether we were a Charlotte or a Miranda, and that we all rooted for Carrie to get together with the unreliable, emotionally unavailable, infantile Mr. Big? Is it too early to be sick of hearing the words "Mr. Big"?

I always kind of thought the best thing that could happen to Carrie would be the disappearance of that guy into witness protection. But then, I didn't want Ross and Rachel to end up together, either.

Most of all, is it too early to declare my entire brain a Jimmy-Choo-free zone? Because we've got a long way to go yet, and we need to pace ourselves.