Did Carrie Just Meet Her Next Man on 'And Just Like That'?

Elle

06-06-2025

Spoilers below.
Carrie is narrating again. So much so, that she's using it not only to express her inner thoughts and writing, but also her texts. Yes, friends, Carrie is a speak-to-text enthusiast. As she and Aidan continue their long-distance relationship (after last week's phone sex debacle), she is actively dictating her correspondences to her on-off-lover as he looks after his family in Virginia. She drops phrases like, 'Hi love, period,' or 'exclamation point!' as if she is reading a telegram. She does this multiple times throughout the latest episode, 'Rate Race,' to an almost comical degree, as if to prove that this is how a 50-something woman uses a smartphone, even though we've never seen Carrie do this before.
Anyway, she first broaches the topic of phone usage in the beginning of the episode when she meets her old neighbor Lisette, who now lives in her apartment. While Lisette, a jewelry designer, gifts Carrie a necklace bearing her old address, she also vents about her dating life. After a bad outing with a psychiatrist, Lisette realizes that the actual relationship she has is with her phone. She believes Carrie is so lucky she didn't have to deal with these kind of shenanigans 'back then'; dating must have been easier before texting and apps, right? (I don't know, Carrie still went through the wringer with a senator who loved golden showers, a Post-it breakup, and more.) Lisette ends up getting a guy to buy her (and Carrie) a drink at the bar, and Carrie later shows us that even though she was dating in the '90s and '00s, she's in a relationship with her phone now too.
But first she takes us even further into the past—to 1846, the year the nameless protagonist of her latest writing project (otherwise known as 'the woman') is living in. Carrie said she often dreams of who used to live in her historical home, but before she can get too far into her draft, a swarm of rats dash out from the bushes in her garden, sending her running and screaming back into the house. She dictates her text to Aidan about the experience: 'Many, many rats, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point!'
While Miranda is at work getting hooked on a queer reality dating show called Bi Bingo, Carrie has promptly hired people to de-pest her garden. To her surprise, Aidan shows up unannounced, partially because he 'felt weird' about how their last phone call went, and also because he misses her. Carrie shares her frustrations about being long distance. She doesn't want to keep Aidan away from his kids, but her new apartment is for the both of them; she wants to be able to share it—and her life—with him. Aidan bends the rules of their 'break,' allowing for Carrie to call and text him whenever she needs. But when Carrie gets in touch about a table she wants to get for their home, he responds with a simple thumbs down emoji.
She vents about this at lunch with Seema and Miranda, but the latter seems more interested in discussing the events of Bi Bingo with their waitress. She jokes about the joy of hate-watching—is And Just Like That… being meta here? Is the show that self-aware?
Seema, on the other hand, quips that she's currently in the habit of hate-dating, as in, she hates most of the recent dates she's been on and the men she's gone on them with. Her concerned coworker sets her up with Sydney, a matchmaker played by an amazing Cheri Oteri. Seema is rightfully skeptical, but once she realizes Sydney has studied her well enough to perfect her lunch order, she gives in. The issue, though, is that Sydney advises Seema to change almost everything about herself, from the way she dresses to the way she talks. For one date with a handsome man named Jake, Seema dresses in homely church clothes and holds her tongue for most of dinner, but when she comes clean about who she really is, Jake runs 'to the bathroom' (a.k.a. home). It's all too much for Seema. Yes, she's seeking a man, but she's not that desperate. After getting ditched, Seema dumps Sydney too.
Meanwhile, Charlotte and Lisa arrive at their children's school to find fellow parents have broken code and hired an off-campus college consultant named Lois Fingerhood to get their kids into Ivy League universities. Feeling late to the game, Charlotte and Lisa make it their mission to get in touch with Lois by any means necessary—for their kids Lily and Herbert Jr.'s sake, of course. Thanks to some Instagram stalking from Charlotte's assistant, they find Lois at her son's T-ball game and corner her on the bleachers. Lily is too busy getting it on with her ballerina crush, Diego, to pick up her mother's calls, but she and Herbert Jr. eventually land a joint meeting with Ms. Fingerhood. It doesn't go well. When the meeting is over, the teens are in a panic. Lily was told she's too well-rounded and shouldn't mention 'that I'm Asian or adopted,' and Herbert Jr. was told to not to mention lacrosse and to have 'more relatable African-American experiences.' It's funny because that is what colleges want—kids to lean into stereotypes and exploit their trauma in their applications.
At least Anthony is doing well. He just landed a brick-and-mortar spot for his dream Hotfellas Bakery, complete with baguette-shaped door handles and 'crotch-level' countertops.
Miranda's new reality fixation might just get her a date. (Do you guys think she's watching the new season of Love Island too?) She and the waitress making her and Carrie's guacamole can't stop gabbing about the drama on their favorite show. But when Miranda asks the waitress out on a date, she reveals that she's straight and married… with two children. Miranda is confused. Didn't they have a spark? Why is this woman so engaged with queer television? The waitress shrugs and says it's just TV. 'I watch The Walking Dead, and I don't like zombies,' she says in an unnecessarily rude tone. Okay, first of all, that's different. Are we comparing bi people to zombies? During Pride month???
Poor Miranda, first a one-night stand with a virgin nun and now a heartless rejection from a waitress serving guacamole. Not all hope is lost though; Miranda is interested in Joy, a classy British colleague at work, but she's worried about starting an office romance. Carrie, of course, eggs her on. So many people have met their partners at work, Miranda!
Carrie, however, might have just met her next partner at the stoop of her new apartment. When her cat slips out the door, a scruffy, muscly gardener picks her up before she can escape onto the street. And what are the odds? This charming landscaper named Adam (Logan Marshall-Dean), who's wearing a rugged band tee, is here to consult Carrie on her backyard renovation. Adam asks her about her ultimate vision for the space, but she's unsure. Not knowing is a good thing, Adam says, 'Because that means what's meant to be will show up.' Whether he's conscious of it or not, he's also referring to himself. Carrie might've been complacent with her arrangement with Aidan, but now that things are changing, she might just be open to something new. Maybe something with Adam.