Viewers who tuned into the third season premiere of And Just Like That… were likely not prepared for the jarring phone sex scene between Aidan Shaw (John Corbett) and Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker). Witnessing Aidan awkwardly announce his climax with a loud “Here it comes,” while Carrie appears increasingly uninterested, is cringe-inducing. Throughout the call, Carrie offers nothing more than a lackluster “Yeah” and a sigh as Aidan handles his business, seemingly oblivious to how absurd he sounds. Carrie’s disengagement is further emphasized by her cat jumping on the bed, and the uncomfortable moment when Aidan licks his fingers, a scene thankfully only the audience is subjected to. This scene is emblematic of a broader issue within AJLT.

As a continuation of HBO’s groundbreaking Sex and the City, the Max reboot struggles to integrate sex into the narrative as seamlessly as its predecessor. The intimate moments between characters often feel forced or awkward, crafted more for dramatic effect than stimulating meaningful discussions like in the original series. Remember when Samantha‘s (Kim Cattrall) blunt remarks about a partner’s taste led to a frank talk about oral sex, or when Miranda’s (Cynthia Nixon) vibrator purchase encouraged her friends to explore their sexualities? Those moments not only fueled the plot but also explored the characters’ personal lives in a way that was both humorous and sexy. Unfortunately, AJLT‘s writers seem to miss the mark in balancing these elements.

The groundwork for AJLT‘s approach to sex scenes is evident from the first season, particularly when Miranda has an awkward encounter with Carrie’s boss, Che (Sara Ramírez), in Carrie’s apartment. The scene lacks chemistry and feels painfully forced, with Nixon’s portrayal of Miranda’s pleasure sounding more like distress. This scene, meant to depict Miranda’s sexual reawakening, comes off as comedic, especially when a groggy Carrie is awoken by the noises and resorts to peeing in an empty Snapple bottle. Despite the awkwardness, it’s hard not to chuckle at Charlotte’s confused reaction to Miranda’s experience.

In their mid-fifties, Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda embark on new emotional paths, but the show fails to delve into their desires with any real depth. This superficial treatment extends to other characters like the independent Seema (Sarita Choudhury), happily married Lisa Todd-Wexley (Nicole Ari Parker), and even their longtime friend Anthony (Mario Cantone). A particularly difficult scene to watch occurs in the season two finale, where Anthony’s discomfort during a sexual encounter with his partner highlights his vulnerability and ends up feeling more exploitative than enlightening.

The third-season premiere, “Outlook Good,” adds another awkward layer with Aidan’s clumsy attempt at phone sex. His drunken advances lack any sense of romance or sensuality, culminating in a bizarre confession that he “might’ve shit his pants a little.” Carrie, ever the diplomat, responds with a detached “Oh, my goodness,” reflecting her general disinterest in phone sex—a sentiment she previously disclosed in the original series. This scene not only feels out of character but also diminishes the rich history and chemistry that Carrie and Aidan once shared.

This episode’s troubling portrayal of intimacy suggests a misguided attempt to reflect the uncertain status of Carrie and Aidan’s relationship. However, AJLT pushes it to an extent that prompts viewers to want to “wash their eyeballs immediately” rather than see the characters mature in their portrayals of intimacy. It’s disappointing that the series, which could have explored these themes with the nuance and humor of its predecessor, instead opts for discomfort and cringe.