The hate being flung at a damn fictional character is so wild, I'm wondering if the folks binge-watching "And Just Like That" might need to binge-watch their own life choices for a sec.
So, what? You've never had the pleasure of dating someone who sucked more life out of you than your vacuum does crumbs from under the sofa? Congrats on winning at life, champ.
Abused women get the memo. Hell, they wrote it. They've been with these "prize" men.
Oh, and let's chat about Mr. Big. His fairy tale credential is showing up in a limo? Really? Throw me a tiara and call me Cinderella because I've ridden in an UberX. Does that make my driver my knight in shining armor? Have you even blinked during the entire series?
Aidan was the golden boy; we all freaking knew it. But, of course, Mr. Big had to play the emotional yo-yo, reeling her in and out whenever his lonely ass felt like it. Remember the crap fest he repeatedly dumped on her, then played the "But baby, I need you now" card?
And who's this special snowflake viewer throwing shade at Carrie for the cash Big left her? Was she supposed to be like, "Oh no, dirty money, ew!" She didn't off him. Chill.
And let's be crystal: half these keyboard warriors on social media would wrestle a bear for a nickel. You really think they'd say no to inheritance money from an Aunt or Uncle they wouldn't even send a "Happy Arbor Day" card to?
Ripping into a make-believe character? For the love of sanity, grow the FUCK UP and get a hobby! Maybe knitting? It's very therapeutic.
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