‘2 Broke Girls’ review, 11/7/11, player hater edition

Many “2 Broke Girls” critics complain that the series doesn’t know what it wants to be. Is it a comedy about poor Brooklyn waitresses or a reality check about living in the New York City area as a struggling twenty-something in debt? Luckily, tonight’s show was short on humor and more about the uncertainties of young relationships.

For the last few episodes, we’ve seen guarded Max develop a strong infatuation for frequent customer Johnny. He stops by often, corners her in the freezer room, visits her apartment unannounced, and invites her to paint a billboard with him.

They make a late night trip up to the billboard, where Max complains about the ridiculously pricey concrete jungle across the body of water.

“Manhattan is such a bitch. Always putting her stuff in your face, but you can’t have any of it,” Max gripes.

Just as Johnny says the city is beautiful and gazes at Max, she leans in. Like a tool, he resists and runs away. Max, who doesn’t open up to people anyway, is embarrassed and upset. This sort of thing happens and you begin to wonder if you were nuts to think the other person may have been drawn to you. As we find out at the end of the episode, Johnny does like Max, but he has a girlfriend, whom he never mentioned in all the months he’s known Max.


Don’t ya hate when that happens? No, I’m not referring to the above photo. It’s mortifying and offensive when you spend endless amounts of time getting to know guys and they go out of their way to avoid telling you they’re taken. They know they’re withholding information but think they’re doing nothing wrong. After all, it’s just talking. Though you’re angry, you go on to breathe a sigh of relief that you’re not with a young man who can’t even tell women that he’s off the market until they come onto him. When push comes to shove, you’re more wounded than frustrated.

Anyway, this review has gone beyond “2 Broke Girls.” In a nutshell, I’m glad the sitcom isn’t all jokes, all the time anymore. Max’s aloof character has finally demonstrated vulnerability. We’re all capable of it, and she’s slightly more likable now that she shows her soft side and that she can get hurt.

As much as I enjoy “2 Broke Girls,” I’m disturbed by its excessive amount of politically incorrect jokes. I’m not the first to express discomfort about the sitcom’s racist wisecracks. It’s meant to be somewhat irreverent, but racism is not an appealing approach. Hopefully they ax the swipes soon.

With that, tonight is my last night at my buddy’s Manhattan pad. Goodbye Chelsea, hello Brooklyn and bedroom with view of a junkyard (hey, it’s getting cleared out as we speak. By the time I move out in January, it could be completely clean!). I’m going to miss feigning life as a Manhattanite who hangs out in Chelsea Market and only has to walk a few blocks to get to Union Square. I won’t miss the loneliness of studio life, but boy will I long for all things-Manhattan as I reside in Brooklyn.

Though I love my new neighborhood, which is not nearly as sketchy as I anticipated, I look forward to relocating to Manhattan with Hillary and Emily early next year. We’d love to migrate over to the east village. Hillary actually likes looking around for places to live, so I trust her judgment more than my own! Fingers crossed I’ll be in Manhattan in no time.

“2 Broke Girls” is right, though: Manhattan sure is deceptive. You see her all day, spend most of your time with her, and desperately want to move forward, but she just won’t have you. You’re not made of money, therefore she’s just not that into you. When you’re ready to take a huge risk, however, she will probably have you, but at a high price. I’ll let you in on a new New Yorker secret: The cost is worth it.

I can’t call myself a New Yorker yet, though, and I’m not sure I’ll ever earn that title. Everyone I meet has been here for years. My colleague Elizabeth, 24, moved here at 17 to attend Columbia. She and several others jokingly laugh about me being an NYC newbie. None of them even remember the kind of feelings I’m experiencing right now. Hillary had to explain the acronyms LWS, UWS, LES, and UES. From what I’ve read, people tend to move to NYC at a much younger age than 23, so it’s no wonder I’m such a space case. Even so, who would have thought I reached NYC spinster age at 23? It’s all good. I’d rather be a crotchety old lady in NYC than a young soul in California, at least until I’m ready to settle down and have children. Someday.


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