Carrie and Aidan: A 25-Year Push-Pull Disaster (and a Masterclass in Disorganized Attachment)

Carrie and Aidan’s relationship spans from the original Sex and the City series to the abomination known as And Just Like That…—and yet, absolutely nothing has changed in 25 years.

Their dynamic is classic push-pull: Carrie only ever wants Aidan when she can’t have him, and at no other point does she actually want him. If there were an award for emotional chaos disguised as romance, these two would win hands-down.

First, let’s talk about attachment styles.

Carrie clearly has a disorganized attachment style—both anxious and avoidant. People with disorganized attachment deeply crave intimacy but panic once they have it. They chase when they’re rejected, reject when chased, and generally drive everyone (including themselves) insane. Sound familiar? She had the exact same dynamic with Big only in reverse.

Aidan, on the other hand, is secure, at least in my opinion. Some argue against that because he’s “whiny” and doesn’t fully accept Carrie’s erratic ways, but let’s clear something up: secure attachment does not mean perfection. Secure individuals are emotionally available, communicate clearly, and are generally consistent. Aidan checks all these boxes (at least, the original Aidan does).

Here’s a quick recap of their relationship from the very beginning up until today.

They meet. Aidan’s a hot furniture designer who says he can’t date a smoker. Carrie faces an existential crisis: cancer sticks or hot man? She chooses the man, but now he won’t immediately sleep with her. Cue Carrie spiraling into self-doubt: Is he gay? Does he even like me? He gently reminds her they’ve only been dating two weeks. Romance is still a thing.

Things start going well—too well. Carrie panics because there’s no drama, no chase. Now if you’re reading this and you’re dating someone wonderful who just wants to make you happy and you are panicking, literally waking up in a cold sweat, please seek therapy!

But Carrie does not because she doesn’t believe in therapy. Instead, she demands space. He gives her exactly that, and she loses it. Her anxious attachment kicks into overdrive and she can’t breathe as she fears she may have lost him. When he eventually resurfaces, she asks where he’s been, and he says, “You told me to give you space so I did’ … but she’s upset he gave too much space!

Things move forward and when he’s back and available and committed, she has to hit that self-destruct button. Cue the affair with Mr. Big. She sleeps with him all over town, uptown, downtown, midtown. Of all the terrible things she’s done, this may be the worst. Aidan just wanted to love her and strip her floors and make her home beautiful, and she thanks him by sleeping with her married ex-boyfriend who never really wanted her to begin with!

Aidan, heartbroken, leaves her. Years pass. He resurfaces looking hotter than ever, and suddenly Carrie needs him again. She aggressively pursues him, ignoring friends who rightly point out she hasn’t thought about him in years. After beating him down emotionally, saying he has to forgive her, Aidan finally takes her back—only to be cautious and distant, which of course reignites Carrie’s intense desire.

She spirals when he’s a little cold… when he’s distant.. when he’s sleeping on the other side of the bed. Any bit of distance kicks that anxious attachment into overdrive!

But they work through it, and he decides to stop punishing her for the past and to start fresh. And what happens when he’s fully committed and available? Carrie can’t stand him!

They move in together, and she’s disgusted by everything from his four deodorants to his genuine interest in her day. She can’t handle the fact that he exists and has stuff and wants to talk to her sometimes…. the horror!

Despite the fact that she was sick to her stomach when she discovered he was planning to propose, Carrie accepts, and they get engaged. And now the avoidant side is taking charge- Carrie is panicked, on edge, she won’t wear the ring on her finger, she breaks out in literal hives, and when it’s clear she just doesn’t want to marry him… Aidan ends the relationship.

Time marches on, and years later she runs into him on the street with a baby strapped to his chest. He looks hot, happy, and tells her he married another furniture designer. This is the last we ever should have seen of Aidan. He got the ending he deserved—after all Carrie put him through, he got what he wanted. That should’ve been it. But no, the saga continued.

In the infamous second movie (which I personally refuse to acknowledge fully), she’s bored by a stable married life with Big, because we know our girl can’t handle peace in a relationship… so when she runs into Aidan in Abu Dhabi she kisses him to stir the pot. More sabotage, more chaos.

Then, the reboot.

Suddenly, Carrie decides maybe Aidan was the real love of her life all along, despite no therapy or personal growth whatsoever. They reconnect, blissfully in love until his kid’s car accident leads him to impose a bizarre 5-year no-contact rule. Carrie agrees because, again, she only wants what’s unavailable!

Yet, Aidan immediately breaks his own boundary, needing constant reassurance that she’s still there, despite telling her he needs space. When Carrie visits him, he first relegates her to the guest house, then invites her back into the main bedroom, and Carrie complies unquestioningly. When did Carrie become so desperate?

Then Aidan sleeps with his ex-wife, and Carrie—shockingly—has zero reaction. Carrie thought they were open; he didn’t. Cue another temper tantrum when Carrie collaborates with her attractive British neighbor. They finally break up—not because of Aidan’s recent infidelity, but because he still doesn’t trust Carrie from cheating 25 years ago, even though he just cheated two weeks ago! Make it make sense.

The reboot reveals a different Aidan—anxious, inconsistent, and emotionally immature, possibly disorganized himself due to decades of Carrie’s chaos.

Ultimately, Carrie Bradshaw is the queen of unhealed wounds and toxic attachment patterns. Instead of pretending this is some grand romance, Carrie should’ve woken up at age 60, realized her own destructive patterns, gone to therapy (for real this time), and perhaps finally experienced a mature, loving relationship built on stability, mutual respect, and genuine connection.

But alas, we got none of that. We got emotional chaos and bad writing. Carrie and Aidan are not soulmates; they’re cautionary tales. Let’s leave them in peace now, shall we?