It seems like we’re in for a few more Fridays with me complaining about And Just Like That, but my frustration just keeps growing. The threadbare plot of each episode reflects how the character arcs are practically nonexistent, worse, completely uninteresting. Let’s break down the episode:

Carrie is invited to either speak at an exclusive Google event, sit on a panel at South by Southwest (SXSW), or attend a low-profile event in rural Williamsburg, Virginia. She chooses rural Virginia — so she can “accidentally” run into Aidan for lunch (since their bizarre arrangement forbids spending the night together) — and that is the big adventure of the most immature mature woman in fiction. Reaching your 60s and agreeing to a five-year no-contact pact with an ex? That would never work or be acceptable to any woman with self-respect or even Carrie’s life experience. She’s a millionaire widow, a sought-after writer, and an independent woman. What the hell is it that Aidan thinks he’s doing?

Meanwhile, I’ve been rewatching season four of Sex and the City, and I’m not just getting the ick from Aidan — I’m starting to think he’s on par with Mr. Big in terms of sadism and toxicity. At least Big went through a deep personal change, got married, and remained loyal to Carrie, never asking her to change an inch, right up until the end. Every time Aidan comes back into the picture, he wants to remake Carrie. Let him stay in the woods, girl! And to make matters worse, his ex-wife dares to call Carrie, say she knows about the visit, and ask her to bring prescription meds for Wyatt. Yet another missed opportunity for the show!

Charlotte, who solves the problem for Carrie in three seconds flat, comments on the struggles of modern mothers dealing with children’s mental health issues — ADHD and beyond — with heavy medication. But instead of delving into this urgent, relevant topic, what happens? They all laugh it off and move on. In SATC, that would’ve never been so carelessly brushed aside.

Next, Carrie needs a friend to help her provide an alibi — because no one’s buying her story — and, at first, no one is available.

That’s because Miranda is back to rebuilding her career as a lawyer while also trying to figure out her relationship with the BBC reporter. Charlotte, on the other hand, is upset she’s missing out on fun post-work events because she raised daughters who rely too heavily on her — which resonates with Harry (still the best husband ever). With Lilly and Rose insisting that she should go back to her gallery career and start enjoying herself again, Charlotte and Harry try to make it happen. But the jokes remain stuck in the realm of bathroom humor (Harry pees himself because he can’t unzip in time), and barely manage to get a chuckle out of us.

From that point on, I had to fight off sleep to stay awake and keep watching. Just ten minutes into the thirty-minute episode, and I was already zoning out. Lisa Todd gets abandoned by the editor of her documentary — the one that’s taken eight years and still needs to include Michelle Obama (!). Lisa’s furious at the world and feels misunderstood, blaming the delay on the fact that she had two kids during the process. Another storyline SATC would never have wasted: the way women who have children are often used to guilt or delegitimized women who didn’t. Lisa makes up with her friend, but she’s still not in a good place with herself.

And Seema — the best of them all — hasn’t even had time to recover from the humiliating matchmaking setup her boss (who claims to adore her) arranged. Now she’s hit with another surprise from this oh-so-loving man: he’s retiring and has sold the company to someone else. Seema is stunned, especially since the plan was for him to sell his share to her — which he, of course, ignored. It’s surreal that this guy is still portrayed as someone who “adores” Seema. Imagine if he didn’t!

So, Seema takes a few days off and goes with Carrie to Virginia. On the way, she meets the gardener Adam — a better version of Aidan, whom Carrie is totally ignoring, though Seema clearly picks up on it. And, of course, once they’re in Virginia, Aidan invites Carrie to stay a few days — as long as she stays in the guesthouse while he stays in the main house with his kids. AND SHE ACCEPTS! Dear God.

And Just Like That keeps stumbling along, loose, silly, and edging ever closer to becoming a full-on sleep aid. How sad…

But perhaps the saddest part of all is realizing just how far And Just Like That has drifted from the soul of what made Sex and the City great: smart, bold, fun, and, above all, honest with the choices of its characters. Now all that’s left are caricatures dragged through plots that don’t even trust their own world-building. The worst part isn’t watching these women grow older — that could be beautiful, powerful, necessary. The worst part is seeing them diminished, incoherent, stuck in cycles that undo everything they once were. And honestly? That’s not evolution. That’s just melancholy.