Image via Dan Jackman/WENN

I was in college when Sex and the City premiered on HBO. I was a kid from New Hampshire who had dreams of moving to New York City, so the designer clothes, the openness about sex, and the on again/off again relationship between Carrie and Mr. Big lured me in for six whole seasons. I was 20 years old when the “iconic,” and I use this term loosely, show started, and twenty-six when it ended. I was a writer who was moving to New York City after graduation; I was obviously, Carrie. And of course, I could take my three closest friends at the time and pigeonhole them in the roles of the slut (Samantha), the prude (Charlotte), and the career driven redhead (Miranda). In life women can only be one of four possible types, right? Right!

As I type this, I am living in New York City. I’ve been here for seven years, and although I am technically a freelance writer, I, shockingly, don’t have Carrie’s apartment, wardrobe, footwear, or Big…weird, because I really thought that’s how it was going to be. No, I joke! If I really thought that, I’d never admit to it, and if I did, I’d jump from my fire escape.

At thirty-two years old, I hate Carrie Bradshaw. When I see episodes now, I cringe. How could such an idiotic, needy twit be the basis for such a successful and long-running show? If that weren’t enough, how could she spawn not one but two hideous, over the top pathetic attempts at cinema type movies!? Someone tell me!

So I’ve broken down the reasons why I hate, actually abashedly loathe, Carrie Bradshaw:

Carrie sucks at love. To quote a friend, “Carrie treated Aidan like shit.” After being treated like a piece of trash by Mr. Big for so many seasons, she decided to do the same to Aidan: she cheated on him, lied to him (about everything from her smoking habits to her abortion in her twenties), and after breaking his heart, went and did it again. Aidan adored her beyond belief (why, we’ll never know), but she, stereotypically, went for the “bad boy” in Big. To use her words, she was addicted to the “exquisite pain of wanting someone so unattainable,” so she sabotaged a potentially amazing relationship with the type of man the majority of us dream about…and for what? Big and his money? A walk-in closet for all her heinous shoes she can’t even afford? Man up, Bradshaw! Falling for the bad boy is cute at sixteen, and maybe even eighteen, but when you’re mid to late thirties, it’s just sad. Get a sense of yourself and quit being a twit.

Carrie sucks at money management. This is where most people who know me might say “people in glass houses…,” but at least I know I can’t manage money. I also know I can’t afford those stupid Jimmy Choos, so I’m not going to buy them anyway and then expect my friends to bail me out of my financial crisis later in life. Shoe addiction is not okay! It’s sad and a crutch, just like all addictions, and should be treated with the same extreme intervention as coke or heroin addiction. Bullying Charlotte into giving you her engagement ring so you can pay off your debts is pretty pathetic Carrie…even I wouldn’t sink that low, bitch.

Carrie sucks at fashion. Yes, I’m sorry, but Carrie Bradshaw dresses like a moron. It’s fun to pretend she’s so daring and innovative in her style choices, but she’s not. She dresses like a six-year-old who was let loose in a drag queen’s closet, and when she came out, her mom clapped and shrieked: “she’s so original!” If I ever saw a woman dressed like that either here in the city, or anywhere else in the world, I’d throw a Twinkie at them, tell them to take a long look in the mirror and eat a damn carb for a change. Yes, I keep Twinkies on me for such occasions.

Carrie sucks at writing. YES! How it is anyone decided that this woman should get paid to be a writer, I’ll never understand. I realize that Carrie is based on Candace Bushnell, and since I don’t read that type of swill, I can’t comment on her lack of talent, but I can say that the fictional version can’t write. I write better when I’m hungover and tied to a lamppost without access to my hands. Anyone who takes life advice from those columns of hers needs to have their head examined stat…there is nothing poignant, thought-provoking or even educational in her rambling. My ass, Vogue paid you $4 a word.

Carrie sucks at friendship. Ms. Bradshaw is the most self-involved person in the world. No matter what issue arises in the lives of her friends, she immediately makes it about her. Charlotte can’t conceive? Well, let’s see how I can make this about me and Mr. Big. Miranda’s in love with a poor bartender? Well, let’s see how I can make this about how I’m a whore and ruined a marriage. We’re talking about a woman who, when her shoes were stolen from a friend’s baby shower, went and “registered” for a new pair…after bitching and moaning for the entire episode that singles never get any gifts after graduation. Shut up! What do you think birthdays are for, Carrie? The friend, who was played by Tatum O’Neal while she was briefly sane, actually has the nerve to tell Carrie that $485 is an irresponsible amount to spend on shoes…forcing Carrie to huff and puff like a spoiled brat, again, making it all about her and her needs. Not once does it cross Carrie’s mind that maybe she’s in the wrong, that she’s the one who needs a reality check. Gag.

Simply, Carrie sucks at life. I get that it’s a TV show (and now two movies) and not steeped in reality, and the whole entertainment factor is key, but is it really entertaining to watch cliché after cliché? At the time, Sex and the City was something new; it took cable television to a whole new level and helped paved the way for so many amazing shows that followed (“Sopranos,” “Six Feet Under”), but it also sort of set women back, Carrie in particular. Her inability to see things clearly, her lack of self control and responsibility, her complete dependency on a man (all the while constantly decrying how much she didn’t need a man) and her total disregard for the importance of friendship and how it needs to be a two-way street makes Carrie a horrible role model for women the world over. And for that I hate her. I don’t hate her enough to let it keep me up at night, but I do hate her enough that I’m prone to throw things at the posters for Sex and the City 2.

So should you find yourself on the streets of New York and happen to witness an angry girl throwing a Twinkie at a poster of Carrie, don’t fret, it’s just me expressing my inner turmoil. Carrie once threw a Big Mac at Big, so throwing things have been all the rage ever since, right? Right.