What is *Is There Still Sex in the City?* about?

Candace Bushnell's *Is There Still Sex in the City?* explores the romantic and social lives of women in their 50s navigating divorce, dating apps, and societal expectations in modern New York. Through candid storytelling, Bushnell examines middle-aged sexuality, friendship dynamics, and the challenges of reinvention in a youth-obsessed culture, blending humor with sharp cultural commentary.

Who should read *Is There Still Sex in the City?*?

This book resonates with fans of Bushnell’s earlier works like *Sex and the City*, readers interested in midlife dating narratives, and those exploring themes of aging and female empowerment. It’s particularly relevant for women over 40 confronting societal stereotypes about sexuality and relationships.

How does *Is There Still Sex in the City?* compare to *Sex and the City*?

While *Sex and the City* focused on single women in their 30s, this sequel-esque work shifts to middle-aged characters grappling with divorce, motherhood, and societal invisibility. Bushnell trades Cosmopolitans for existential reflections, maintaining her signature wit while addressing darker realities of aging.

What are the key themes in *Is There Still Sex in the City?*?

- **Reinvention**: Starting over after divorce or career shifts - **Societal double standards**: Ageism in dating and sexuality - **Female friendship**: Support networks in midlife crises - **Digital dating**: Navigating apps like Tinder after 50

Does *Is There Still Sex in the City?* include autobiographical elements?

Yes. Bushnell draws from her own divorce and dating experiences, blending fictionalized stories with memoir-like insights. The book reflects her personal observations about New York’s social scene and the “Carrie Bradshaw” persona’s evolution into middle age.

What criticism has *Is There Still Sex in the City?* received?

Some critics argue the episodic structure lacks narrative cohesion, while others note its heteronormative focus doesn’t fully represent diverse midlife experiences. However, fans praise its unflinching look at aging in a sex-positive framework.

How does Bushnell address modern dating culture in the book?

The book dissects swiping-app fatigue, ghosting among middle-aged daters, and the paradox of infinite choice versus loneliness. Bushnell contrasts 1990s dating norms with today’s digital landscape, highlighting how technology reshapes intimacy.

What iconic quotes define *Is There Still Sex in the City?*?

- **“Divorce is the new college”**: Reinvention through life upheavals - **“Fifty is the new twenty-five”**: Rejecting ageist stereotypes - **“The Second Act”**: Embracing new beginnings post-50

Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Candace Bushnell

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Aperçu de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Candace Bushnell revient pour explorer les rencontres amoureuses après 50 ans, où Tinder, le « Cubbing » et le rajeunissement vaginal remplacent les Cosmos et Mr. Big. Son regard brut et plein d'humour sur la romance en milieu de vie prouve que le sexe ne s'arrête pas à la ménopause — il devient simplement plus complexe.

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Chapitre 1

The New Chapter: Finding Love and Identity Beyond Fifty

In a world that worships youth and beauty, what happens when a woman crosses the invisible line into middle age? Candace Bushnell, whose groundbreaking "Sex and the City" columns defined dating culture for a generation, returns with a raw, honest exploration of life's second act. No longer the ingenue navigating Manhattan's dating scene, Bushnell now examines the uncharted territory of dating, friendship, and identity after fifty-when algorithms reject you for mortgages, younger men suddenly find you fascinating, and society expects you to quietly disappear. This cultural touchstone has resonated with celebrities from Sarah Jessica Parker to Oprah Winfrey, who praised its unflinching look at female aging in a youth-obsessed culture. As The New York Times noted, Bushnell's work continues to capture "not just the zeitgeist but also an entire sociological moment." With her signature wit and unflinching honesty, Bushnell takes us on a journey that proves there is indeed still sex in the city-it just looks different now.

Chapitre 2

When Everything Falls Apart

One of the unexpected gifts of middle age is discovering that people become kinder and more forgiving. By this point in life, everyone has experienced their share of disappointments and setbacks. We've learned that perfect-looking lives often conceal profound unhappiness, and that things we once considered permanent-marriage, love, even our beloved cities-can suddenly become unstable. My own relationship with New York began unraveling through a series of devastating blows. First came the unexpected death of my dog Tucco after an encounter with a cocker spaniel. Just three months later, my husband asked for a divorce. The final indignity arrived when I attempted to secure a mortgage in my own name, despite having enough money to pay it off entirely. The algorithm rejected me because I was female, single, self-employed, and over fifty-I no longer checked any of the right boxes. In the world of algorithms, I had effectively ceased to exist. Unlike millions of other middle-aged divorced women, I had the financial resources to retreat to my house in Litchfield County. I bought two standard poodles, wrote whatever I wanted, and rode dressage horses. I was genuinely content in the silence, not thinking about men at all. When Tina Brown suggested I write about dating over fifty, I refused outright. After thirty-five years of relationships, I had decided to be man-free-which also meant being sex-free. Men would express shock at this choice, asking incredulously, "Don't you need sex?" I'd respond that people who "need" sex tend to make terrible decisions to get it. The subject rarely arose in conversations with friends. My single friends had been unattached for years and weren't dating, while my married friends were consumed with child-rearing. But everything changed when my accountant called with news about a tax advantage if I sold my apartment. With the profit, I purchased a small one-bedroom in Manhattan and a run-down house in a former fishing village in the Hamptons, near where my friend Marilyn had relocated after her own urban crisis. Soon Sassy joined us, followed by Queenie (a former society it-girl who'd gotten pregnant, married briefly, and divorced) and Kitty (whose seemingly perfect marriage ended when her husband drunkenly handed her divorce papers). Finally, Tilda Tia appeared from the South of France after ending a twelve-year relationship. And so, four years after leaving, I returned to my old stomping grounds-now a middle-aged, single white woman with two poodles-to answer the question: Is there still sex in the city?

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Chapitre 3

The Vagina Industrial Complex

According to my gynecologist, my sex life was in trouble before it even restarted. During my first appointment back in Manhattan, she informed me matter-of-factly that my "vagina is not flexible enough" and recommended the Mona Lisa treatment-a laser procedure that "restores thickness and elasticity to the vagina" for the hefty price of three thousand dollars. Later, at lunch with a Hollywood producer, I mentioned this treatment. He went pale-his soon-to-be ex-wife had undergone the procedure at 52 and subsequently left him for their daughters' horse trainer, a man twenty years her junior. This revelation sparked an intriguing question: if older women could have relationships like older men-with much younger partners-would they? According to my friend Ess, absolutely yes, especially among the wealthy. She compared it to the "Viagra Effect"-when older men suddenly had access to sexual enhancement and left their wives for younger women. Now the reverse was happening. The difference, of course, was accessibility. Viagra costs relatively little and is often covered by insurance, while the Mona Lisa treatment runs three thousand dollars. Without that investment, I'd have to rely on what I already had: my bicycle. The bicycle boys I encountered twenty-five years ago were a rarified, somewhat nerdy group whose bike riding signaled a lack of funds. Today, they're everywhere and have evolved into numerous types. There's the Family-Man Billionaire-Tech Guy (wealthy, fit, fertile, but changes marriages like bicycle tires), the Pack-Rat (middle-class man who rides in groups and irritates his wife by spending hours on his "hobby"), and the Actual Bicycle Boy (younger, more skilled riders who can do wheelies but might inspire you to attempt dangerous stunts). Unlike me, my friend Tilda Tia embraced dating adventures after being "good" for twelve years in her previous relationship. She'd become "Suddenly Samantha"-ready to be "bad" with her newfound freedom. When we went riding together, she wore a flowered dress and sandals with no helmet while I was decked out in full safety gear including a watermelon-painted helmet and neon vest. Our different approaches to safety mirrored our different approaches to dating. During our bike ride, we encountered various types of riders: happy couples, annoyed spouses, "super middle" hard-chargers in expensive gear, and "friend pods" of mixed groups. When a mustachioed man with a jolly face invited us to lunch, I was pleased at this social opportunity, but Tilda Tia refused, saying they reminded her of her ex-husband's friends. Instead, she chased after a perfectly muscled thirty-something "hot guy," causing me to injure my shin while trying to keep up. We ended our sweaty adventure at a beachside restaurant with frozen rose drinks, French fries, and an Uber ride home-a humorous end to our man-meeting bicycle expedition.

Chapitre 4

The Dating App Dystopia

A few days after our bicycle adventure yielded no romantic prospects, I received an email from Emma, a 26-year-old editor who wanted me to write "experimental journalism" about Tinder. During our awkward phone call (which Emma found very "irl"), she revealed she wanted me to expose "the truth" about Tinder because it was "ruining her friends' lives." Despite my reservations about returning to journalism, I agreed to investigate with an open mind. My first discovery about Tinder was that while it's supposedly about sex, it's actually about money. I was immediately tricked into agreeing to a $99 annual subscription. The app linked to an ancient Facebook account, displaying a decade-old photo and my actual age. Initially, Tinder showed me only two potential matches-both smokers in their sixties-because the app automatically set my preferences for men 55-70. Irritated by this ageist assumption, I defiantly reset my age range to 22-38, suddenly unlocking a flood of young men apparently interested in women old enough to be their mothers. I hosted a gathering of "Tinderellas"-impressive young women aged 22-33 who regularly used the app. Over champagne, they analyzed my matches, warning me about men's tactics and explaining modern dating culture. They explained that men's lengthy messages were actually a negative sign, and revealed that most men on the app were self-absorbed. Emma, the only married woman present, offered her relationship philosophy: "You have to be just as self-absorbed because it's every man for himself in a relationship." The young women described the challenges of modern dating. Meeting people in bars rarely worked-Gena only connected with four men that way over years of trying. Online dating created its own problems, especially around chemistry. Hannah explained that photos couldn't convey a person's humanity or potential attraction. The group discussed "catching feelings" as a liability in modern hookups. Their standards had dropped dramatically-they considered basic decency exceptional: "If you're just not a psycho-killer, you're like the coolest," Emma explained. When Hannah asked wistfully about dating in my era, I described exchanging numbers, engaging phone conversations on landlines, dinner dates with meaningful conversation, and romantic walks in the park. Rather than finding this corny, the young women were captivated. "To me, it sounds so appealing," said Corina. Emma acknowledged that everyone in their generation found traditional romance compelling but "just not realistic." Hannah sighed that a simple walk in the park with a date was "the most romantic thing that's ever happened to me, ever." Despite my reservations, I became addicted to Tinder. The attention felt intoxicating-"I've never had so many guys interested in me. In ages." When Kitty examined my profile, she discovered Tinder had selected only my most flattering, youthful photos from my social media accounts. I realized I'd unwittingly become a "false advertiser"-someone who appears younger and more attractive online than in real life. As I prepared for my first-ever Tinder date with a man named Jude, I realized he contradicted everything I'd heard about men on the app. He made plans efficiently, sent respectful messages without inappropriate photos, and appeared genuinely kind in his pictures. When Jude finally arrived at our meeting spot, he was surprisingly better looking in person than his photos-a rare "Tinder unicorn." Jude immediately launched into complaints about Tinder, explaining how men on the app only want one thing: sex, specifically blow jobs. Though embarrassed, he implied he was trying to reform from this mindset. He maintained that Tinder was designed by sexist men to objectify women: "Men see women as commodities. Objects. Because it's on a screen, that makes it not real." Disturbed by this "man-negging," I called my twenty-five-year-old friend Sam for insight. He confirmed the worst: "Men are stupid. They're run by their little heads." He explained how pornography and apps like Tinder feed into men's worst impulses-"the part that secretly wants to judge a beauty pageant." Sam estimated 90% of men on Tinder were "assholes," leaving me wondering if the app attracts people who fundamentally hate themselves. At a supposedly popular singles bar with my friend Sassy, we discovered we'd become invisible to men. Despite the bar being filled with attractive, age-appropriate men, we couldn't even catch the bartender's eye. Christie, Sassy's younger friend, confirmed our fears: "Guys don't look at you in a bar. You can't do that anymore." Her most disturbing insight: "I think I need to sell myself more. Because no one is willing to buy me... I am a commodity. And I need to repackage myself." I realized women will keep using these apps despite the odds being stacked against them. Consulting teenagers about dating apps revealed their addiction to the validation: "All these people were liking my pictures," said a sixteen-year-old who rejoined Tinder immediately after a breakup. A seventeen-year-old added, "It's the attention. The attention makes you think everything in your life is great... All social media is like a drug."

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Chapitre 5

The Unexpected Allure of Older Women

Middle-aged women have become "catnip" for younger men. First Marilyn encountered a flirtatious 21-year-old delivery boy, then Sassy got propositioned by a 22-year-old at a society event, and Queenie's 24-year-old intern tried to kiss her. Unlike the "cougar" stereotype of older women pursuing younger men, this "cubbing" phenomenon involves young men actively pursuing older women-a shift partly attributed to pornography (with "MILF" being the most googled porn term in 2007) and women's improved appearance through exercise, Botox, and skincare. Unlike aggressive "cougars," "catnips" are typically sensible women who unexpectedly find themselves pursued by younger men. Take Joanne, who connected with a 27-year-old chef at Queenie's dinner party-despite him being Queenie's niece's boyfriend. Rather than a brief fling, they ended up living together for months and were later spotted shopping for appliances together. In the new world of "cubbing," some young men genuinely fall in love with older women, though the path from unexpected cub encounter to potential marriage has many pitfalls. Cubbing can happen to any woman, even those who've never considered dating younger men. Kitty, who always preferred older men, found herself at a friend's birthday party where her married friends awkwardly discussed her new single status. When her friend's 23-year-old son Mason and his friends arrived, the energy shifted dramatically. Escaping to the kitchen, Kitty connected with Mason's attractive friend, eventually joining the young group downstairs where they offered her beer and vape hits-a stark contrast to the staid adult gathering upstairs. In the basement rec room, Kitty found herself unexpectedly kissed by Mason's friend-what she later termed an "Unexpected Cub Pounce" (UCP). Though she pulled away and returned to the adult gathering, the experience made her question her preference for older men. A woman is especially vulnerable to cub pounces if she's recently divorced, hasn't received male attention in years, or engages in unfamiliar behaviors like vaping. Not all cub encounters end well. Tilda Tia hooked up with a young man at a Southampton club party, but he became obsessively attached-texting constantly, trying to leave clothes at her place, and insisting she meet his parents. The horror peaked when she realized his parents were old friends she hadn't seen in 25 years. When she tried breaking up via text, the emotional "Romeo-type" cub showed up demanding another chance, forcing her to lock her door and throw his phone out the window. After multimillionaire Brian left his third wife Mia for a 21-year-old dancer, Mia retreated to their Hamptons house with her $30 million settlement. There, handsome young air conditioner repairman Jess charmed her, claiming to idolize Brian. Their passionate affair began suddenly, with Jess disappearing for weeks between encounters. When he returned with friend Drew, they attempted to blackmail Mia for $100,000, claiming Jess was underage. Panicked for days, Mia eventually learned from Jess's boss that he was actually 20, not 17. For Mia, like most middle-aged women, this cubbing adventure became just another bizarre experience in her new chapter of life.

Chapitre 6

The High Price of Beauty in Madison World

After moving to the Upper East Side of Manhattan-a neighborhood others considered boring and uncool but somewhat affordable-I quickly discovered the extravagant reality of my new surroundings, which I dubbed "Madison World"-the ultra-luxury shopping district between Fifth and Park Avenues. On my second morning, I discovered eyeglasses frames cost $3,000 plus another $2,000 for lenses. I felt like an obvious interloper among the glamorously dressed women, self-conscious in my practical cotton pants and Havaianas flip-flops. Shopping in Madison World proved intimidating-expensive clothes chained to racks, salespeople who scrutinize whether you belong, and lavishly furnished dressing rooms complete with complimentary champagne. Despite the glamorous facade, I overheard that many Madison Avenue stores were struggling financially. After weeks of suffering in painful old patent leather pumps, I decided to invest in new shoes that could transition from day to night and be comfortable enough to walk in. Though they were only available in a slightly-too-large size, I bought them anyway because I could actually walk in them. This triggered a shopping spree at a closing drugstore where I bought leather gloves, makeup brushes, expensive shampoo, and hot-pink neoprene booties. I noticed I'd become a "schlepper" again, carrying my life in oversized bags as I navigated Madison Avenue. The most shocking experience came when I met with Krystal, a stern aesthetician who bluntly told me "Your skin looks bad." She promised miraculous results-making my skin "go back in age twenty years" without needing Botox or fillers again. During the facial treatment, Krystal performed a sales routine, calculating how much I spent yearly on skincare and offering her "miracle" products at a supposedly discounted rate. When she finally revealed the price-$15,000-I was shocked but found myself unable to escape as Krystal applied treatments to half my face. Despite my protests about the cost, Krystal negotiated me down to $4,000, and I left with bags of products and detailed instructions. Surprisingly, the products actually worked-my rosacea improved, my housekeeper commented I looked younger, and old friends barely recognized me. When the products ran out, I found cheaper alternatives with similar ingredients. Months later, I passed the same Russians outside their shop, and they failed to recognize me as a customer, offering me another sample.

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Chapitre 7

The Unexpected Eruptions of Middle-Aged Madness

Middle-aged madness (MAM) is a phenomenon where typically pleasant, conflict-avoidant women suddenly erupt in dramatic confrontations. After Tilda Tia told me about Ess throwing a drink in Jennifer's face at a wellness retreat, I reflected on how MAM spread through our social circle in the Village, leading to multiple confrontations including my own near-physical fight with Marilyn. As perfect summer weather arrived, gatherings and drinking increased in the Village, attracting friends of friends. The social dynamic deteriorated quickly: Sassy's friend Margo got arrested for drunk driving after boating with a cub; Marilyn transformed from reclusive to party-obsessed; European women began sunbathing topless; and arguments erupted between various women over men and perceived slights, creating a volatile atmosphere. Unlike the traditional male midlife crisis that typically occurred around age forty and involved motorcycles, affairs, or rebellion against corporate life, today's "middle-aged madness" strikes later in life. While women historically suffered "nervous breakdowns" (undiagnosed depression) rather than midlife crises, modern women experience MAM in their fifties and sixties-precisely when they're also dealing with divorce, death, menopause, empty nests, and job loss. Today's fifty-somethings aren't quietly retiring but instead starting over with fewer resources, having casual sex, relocating, and launching new ventures. Ess's story exemplifies this turbulence. After embracing her new implant-enhanced body and making friends with similarly enhanced women at happy hour bars, she declared her intention to marry for money as revenge against her ex-husband. Unlike most women who make such claims, Ess actually followed through, marrying Eddie despite openly admitting she didn't love him. For five years, she endured his mean-spirited behavior and occasional violence for the sake of providing her sons with financial security. When Eddie faced health issues and suddenly embraced sobriety and health consciousness, he demanded a divorce. The situation deteriorated when Eddie hired an aggressive lawyer to intimidate Ess, causing her tremendous stress-which may explain why one of her breast implants exploded. During her recovery from implant removal surgery, Ess learned her father died in a car accident, for which her family blamed her. Despite these cascading tragedies, insurance covered not just implant removal but also reconstructive surgery including liposuction, giving Ess a dramatically transformed body that impressed her friends. Middle-aged madness creates psychological low points that feel like black holes. Negative thoughts carve paths of self-doubt and despair, leading to questions like "What did I do to deserve this?" and "Is this really my life?" Moving beyond MAM requires confronting reality and rebuilding from there. Margo exemplifies this journey-nearly sixty, single, without permanent housing or income after leaving the workforce for twenty years to raise a family. When Margo finally found work measuring blinds-the same job she'd had at twenty-two but now paying the same wage forty years later-fate intervened. Her childless aunt died, leaving her enough money to buy a small rural house and pursue painting.

Chapitre 8

Unexpected Motherhood: Learning to Care for Others

I prepared for houseguests-a man named Max and his son-who arrived four hours late during a heatwave. Max had promised to arrive by two o'clock but only left the city an hour before six, having ordered camping tents online at the last minute despite knowing about the trip for weeks. Despite not remembering the boy's Icelandic name, I committed to hosting them for ten days of "camping" in my backyard. Max, a 55-year-old who never married and has a laissez-faire attitude toward life, had the child unintentionally with an Icelandic woman who later moved to New York. At the clothing store, Max immediately sat down and started texting while I attempted to help the boy shop. The child stared at me blankly, making me realize I had no authority with him. When the saleslady assumed I was his mother, I confessed I barely knew him and he didn't speak much English. Thankfully, the saleslady understood and helped, as shopping is "one of the many, many things that children cannot do on their own." I admit I've never been "motherly"-even as a child I refused to hold babies, seeing it as indoctrination into eventual babysitting. Fortunately, my friends volunteered to help: Queenie and Kitty offered their pools and babysitting services, while Sassy promised to do "sports" with the boy. At Queenie's house, I got scolded by my friends for not remembering the boy's name. Queenie, a "Yummy Mummy," immediately knew how to make the boy comfortable, taking his hand and entertaining him in the pool. I observed that children require constant entertainment-"it's not a cocktail party." While all my friends took turns mothering the boy, Max napped on the sofa. Finally, I connected with the boy by teaching him how to dive, which he mastered in forty minutes. Determined to get mobility worked out, I decided it was time to get the boy on a bike. At the bike shop, we discovered the boy didn't know how to ride-a heartbreaking revelation he'd hidden from his father to avoid disappointment. This complicated my plans since I'd have to drive them everywhere. I suggested teaching him, pointing out my house's ideal location near a park and cul-de-sac. Max agreed enthusiastically, but we discovered the shop doesn't sell bikes with training wheels, requiring an online order. When the bike with training wheels arrived, the boy was pedaling around the parking lot with a smile that made all the inconvenience worthwhile. That look of pure joy when a child "gets it" is incomparable-proof you've truly lived. Like a real parent, I grabbed my phone to record this momentous achievement. They say children make you better people, and this happened to Max. Seeing his son's quick learning, Max became determined to teach him fishing, tennis, making friends, and improving his reading. This triggered an existential moment for me-without children, no one truly needs you. Your friends might mourn your death briefly, but who plans your funeral? Who inherits your IRA? The boy and his father eventually left in a beat-up gray van. They packed the bike, tents, and the finished diorama carefully nestled in a cardboard box. I watched from the stoop as they backed down the driveway, waving but not lingering. Later, I reviewed the video I made for the boy and saw what a revelation it was-the vacation was everything we'd hoped for. The backyard looked like a real campsite, the boy learned to paddleboard, caught fish, and received a trophy. Throughout it all, the kid was happy, laughing, having fun. I titled the file with his name-Dagmar-and hit Save.

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Chapitre 9

Finding Love in the Second Act

Marilyn and I have boyfriends! It's almost miraculous considering we'd resigned ourselves to being diehard single women who didn't need men. We'd stopped looking entirely, lowering our chances of meeting someone to practically zero. My research on available age-appropriate men hadn't been promising anyway-middle-aged men often still believed women over fifty weren't appealing, especially when younger women were readily available. The "hot-drop" guy finds himself unintentionally single-perhaps his wife died, cheated, or simply grew bored. There's nothing wrong with him; there's too much right. Kitty discovered this when she ran into Harold at an art opening. Recently divorced with an adorable ten-year-old daughter, he seemed interested in Kitty, touching her hand and kissing her lips goodnight. But after texting and calling multiple times with no response, she ran into him six months later with his new fiancee-a woman who looked barely twenty-five but was "almost forty" and already expecting his child. Some women try to improve their odds by dating men fifteen, twenty, even twenty-five years older-which means men in their seventies or eighties. At a party, I encountered one of these senior-age players (SAPs)-older single men with money who still work lesser versions of their once high-powered careers. Though my friend Ron claimed Arnold was 68, Google revealed he was actually 75-closer to my father's age than mine. During our date, Arnold proudly showed me his bedroom, boasting about his bed: "I've had it for twenty years. This bed has brought me good luck. I've had a lot of great sex on that bed. And I hope to have a lot more in the future." He explained his dating philosophy-he'd previously dated women as young as 25 but had an epiphany that he had nothing to say to women under 35, so he'd "reluctantly" raised his age limit to 35-50. At the party, MNB (My New Boyfriend) materialized at my side offering champagne with the kindest smile. He stayed by my side the entire evening-holding my drink, finding us a table next to the billionaire host, and dancing with me. In his car, we started making out, and when he dropped me off, he said something startling: "I really like you. I have instincts about people and I'm not often wrong. I think you and I could be really good together." Our relationship blossomed into a whirlwind romance-he sent flowers, took me to shows and island vacations, and constantly spoiled me. I couldn't understand why this wonderful, age-appropriate man with his own money and home wanted to be my boyfriend. Marilyn called to share that she too might have a new boyfriend. Like MNB and me, they'd met at a Hamptons party, talked for hours, and discovered they knew many people in common. He was sixty-four, a surfer with a Brooklyn apartment and an environmental design tech business. Most importantly, he really listened, really cared, and was really nice. After years of barely dating, Marilyn and I somehow had boyfriends, which amazed our friends. We identified key MNB attributes: they're genuinely nice guys without strings of bad relationships or gossip; they're grown-ups who can manage their own lives; they're not substance abusers; and they're interested in women their own age. Unlike "hot-drops" who are seduced by younger women, MNBs aren't looking to reproduce. They want equals who can share life's burdens, because as Carla, 54, put it: "shit happens to all of us, and it's just a little better if you don't have to go through it alone."

Chapitre 10

The Shadow of Mortality and the Promise of New Beginnings

In middle age, people begin falling into two categories: the "super middles" and "everyone else." Everyone else experiences that mysterious one-degree facial separation where we no longer recognize ourselves in the mirror. This democratic softening makes it difficult to tell who was once beautiful and who wasn't. Meanwhile, "super middles" are those who "haven't aged at all" or even appear to have aged backward through diligent health routines and cosmetic touches. They're trying to be better people physically, spiritually, and psychologically-determined to get things right this time. The year before, during that MAM winter when everyone feared for their futures, Marilyn took these fears to the extreme and attempted suicide by slitting her wrists. Though she had researched the method, she didn't die. After bleeding for two hours, she drove herself to a walk-in clinic and was eventually transferred to Southampton Hospital, then to a state clinic with grim conditions. After ten days, she was released into the care of her brother who flew in from Australia to take her back to Sydney. There, Marilyn finally received the correct diagnosis: she was bipolar, like her father. Though initially resistant and ashamed, she embraced treatment, stopped drinking, exercised daily, and saw her therapist regularly. She transformed her house into a pristine white cottage with a violet door and beautiful gardens. She seemed happier than ever with her MNB, even returning from Italy with a diamond ring. But despite appearing better than ever, Marilyn became unreachable. After strange insurance issues and missed communications, her friends discovered she had taken her life, leaving no note but a will requesting cremation. Her death left her friends encased in grief, questioning how someone who seemed to be doing so well could make this choice. After a year and a half of dating, MNB and I had settled into comfortable coupledom. Though not technically living together, we'd developed familiar patterns-traveling together, socializing with other couples, creating a family-adjacent scenario with my dogs Pepper and Prancer. We'd found our rhythm, two bodies orbiting each other in space and time. Like planets, it's hard to resist the gravitational pull of partnering. For the first time, I found myself wondering what if MNB became MNH (My New Husband)? Though I could vaguely envision growing old with him, marriage would only complicate our lives. Yet something about later-life marriage was in the air, and whenever I mentioned my writing subject, everyone had a story about septuagenarians finding love again and having beautiful weddings that make everyone cry. As my sixtieth birthday approached, MNB wanted to plan something special, but I've always disliked milestone birthdays. My fortieth was marred by a breakup, my fiftieth by exhaustion. But turning sixty felt different-like waking from a bad dream. After a decade of change, moving, divorce and death, I decided to embrace this new decade without hiding my age. Celebrating with Kitty, Queenie, Sassy, Tilda Tia and MNB, I knew sixty had arrived and it was going to be fabulous.

★★★★★

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Thèmes clés dans Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

middle age dating
female aging
divorce recovery
post-menopausal sexuality
algorithmic ageism

Citations de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

people who "need" sex tend to make terrible decisions to get it.

Personnages de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Candace BushnellThe author and protagonist navigating life over 50
MarilynA friend who relocated to the Hamptons
QueenieA former society it-girl and divorced mother
KittyA friend whose perfect marriage ended abruptly
Tilda TiaA friend exploring newfound freedom after a breakup

À propos de l'auteur

Candace Bushnell, auteure de best-sellers internationaux et commentatrice culturelle à l'origine de Is There Still Sex in the City?, a façonné les récits modernes sur la vie des femmes grâce à son esprit vif et son honnêteté sans faille.

Connue pour ses fictions contemporaines explorant l'amour, le pouvoir et l'ambition féminine, Bushnell s'est d'abord fait connaître avec sa chronique révolutionnaire Sex and the City et le livre qui a suivi, lequel a inspiré la série emblématique de HBO et les films.

Ses autres œuvres notables, notamment Lipstick Jungle (adapté en série sur NBC) et The Carrie Diaries (une préquelle sur CW), consolident sa réputation pour capturer les complexités de la dynamique sociale et professionnelle des femmes.

Née dans le Connecticut et figure de longue date du milieu new-yorkais, l'écriture de Bushnell mêle des réflexions autobiographiques à une satire sociale acérée. Is There Still Sex in the City?, un best-seller du New York Times, a été salué pour son exploration des relations et du vieillissement, prouvant sa pertinence durable.

Ses livres ont été traduits dans plus de 20 langues, et leurs adaptations à l'écran ont touché des millions de personnes à travers le monde.

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Cree par des anciens de Columbia University a San Francisco

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@Cashflowbubu

Decouvrez comment BeFreed est discute sur le web

Cree par des anciens de Columbia University a San Francisco

LOVED BY

1,000,000+ curious minds.

4.7

avg rating

1M+ learners

"Instead of endless scrolling, I just hit play on BeFreed. It saves me so much time."

@Moemenn

"I never knew where to start with nonfiction—BeFreed’s book lists turned into podcasts gave me a clear path."

@Chloe, Solo founder, LA

117

"Perfect balance between learning and entertainment. Finished ‘Thinking, Fast and Slow’ on my commute this week."

@Raaaaaachelw

"Crazy how much I learned while walking the dog. BeFreed = small habits → big gains."

@Matt, YC alum

108

"Reading used to feel like a chore. Now it’s just part of my lifestyle."

@Erin, Investment Banking Associate , NYC

254

"Feels effortless compared to reading. I’ve finished 6 books this month already."

@djmikemoore

"BeFreed turned my guilty doomscrolling into something that feels productive and inspiring."

@Pitiful

4.5K

"BeFreed turned my commute into learning time. 20-min podcasts are perfect for finishing books I never had time for."

@SofiaP

"BeFreed replaced my podcast queue. Imagine Spotify for books — that’s it. 🙌"

@Jaded_Falcon

201

"It is great for me to learn something from the book without reading it."

@OojasSalunke

"The themed book list podcasts help me connect ideas across authors—like a guided audio journey."

@Leo, Law Student, UPenn

483

"Makes me feel smarter every time before going to work"

@Cashflowbubu

"Instead of endless scrolling, I just hit play on BeFreed. It saves me so much time."

@Moemenn

"I never knew where to start with nonfiction—BeFreed’s book lists turned into podcasts gave me a clear path."

@Chloe, Solo founder, LA

117

"Perfect balance between learning and entertainment. Finished ‘Thinking, Fast and Slow’ on my commute this week."

@Raaaaaachelw

"Crazy how much I learned while walking the dog. BeFreed = small habits → big gains."

@Matt, YC alum

108

"Reading used to feel like a chore. Now it’s just part of my lifestyle."

@Erin, Investment Banking Associate , NYC

254

"Feels effortless compared to reading. I’ve finished 6 books this month already."

@djmikemoore

"BeFreed turned my guilty doomscrolling into something that feels productive and inspiring."

@Pitiful

4.5K

"BeFreed turned my commute into learning time. 20-min podcasts are perfect for finishing books I never had time for."

@SofiaP

"BeFreed replaced my podcast queue. Imagine Spotify for books — that’s it. 🙌"

@Jaded_Falcon

201

"It is great for me to learn something from the book without reading it."

@OojasSalunke

"The themed book list podcasts help me connect ideas across authors—like a guided audio journey."

@Leo, Law Student, UPenn

483

"Makes me feel smarter every time before going to work"

@Cashflowbubu

"Instead of endless scrolling, I just hit play on BeFreed. It saves me so much time."

@Moemenn

"I never knew where to start with nonfiction—BeFreed’s book lists turned into podcasts gave me a clear path."

@Chloe, Solo founder, LA

117

"Perfect balance between learning and entertainment. Finished ‘Thinking, Fast and Slow’ on my commute this week."

@Raaaaaachelw

"Crazy how much I learned while walking the dog. BeFreed = small habits → big gains."

@Matt, YC alum

108

"Reading used to feel like a chore. Now it’s just part of my lifestyle."

@Erin, Investment Banking Associate , NYC

254

"Feels effortless compared to reading. I’ve finished 6 books this month already."

@djmikemoore

"BeFreed turned my guilty doomscrolling into something that feels productive and inspiring."

@Pitiful

4.5K

"BeFreed turned my commute into learning time. 20-min podcasts are perfect for finishing books I never had time for."

@SofiaP

"BeFreed replaced my podcast queue. Imagine Spotify for books — that’s it. 🙌"

@Jaded_Falcon

201

"It is great for me to learn something from the book without reading it."

@OojasSalunke

"The themed book list podcasts help me connect ideas across authors—like a guided audio journey."

@Leo, Law Student, UPenn

483

"Makes me feel smarter every time before going to work"

@Cashflowbubu

Decouvrez comment BeFreed est discute sur le web

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Chapitre 4

Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

AperçuAperçu de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Un livre. De nombreuses façons de l'écouter.

The New Chapter: Finding Love and Identity Beyond Fifty

When Everything Falls Apart

Voyez chaque mot au fil de l'écoute

The Vagina Industrial Complex

The Dating App Dystopia

Profitez davantage de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

The Unexpected Allure of Older Women

The High Price of Beauty in Madison World

Voyez chaque mot au fil de l'écoute

The Unexpected Eruptions of Middle-Aged Madness

Unexpected Motherhood: Learning to Care for Others

Profitez davantage de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Finding Love in the Second Act

The Shadow of Mortality and the Promise of New Beginnings

Vous êtes arrivé au bout de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Thèmes clés dans Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Citations de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Personnages de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

À propos de l'auteur

Telecharger le resume de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Les utilisateurs ont aussi aimé

FAQ sur ce livre

What is Is There Still Sex in the City? about?

Who should read Is There Still Sex in the City??

How does Is There Still Sex in the City? compare to Sex and the City?

What are the key themes in Is There Still Sex in the City??

Découvrir plus

1,000,000+ curious minds.

1,000,000+ curious minds.

Un livre. De nombreuses façons de l'écouter.

The New Chapter: Finding Love and Identity Beyond Fifty

When Everything Falls Apart

Voyez chaque mot au fil de l'écoute

The Vagina Industrial Complex

The Dating App Dystopia

Profitez davantage de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

The Unexpected Allure of Older Women

The High Price of Beauty in Madison World

Voyez chaque mot au fil de l'écoute

The Unexpected Eruptions of Middle-Aged Madness

Unexpected Motherhood: Learning to Care for Others

Profitez davantage de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Finding Love in the Second Act

The Shadow of Mortality and the Promise of New Beginnings

Vous êtes arrivé au bout de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?

Les utilisateurs ont aussi aimé

Découvrir plus

Aperçu de Y a-t-il encore du sexe à New York ?