This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at PSU chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.
Carrie Bradshaw may have been a cultural icon of the late ‘90s and early 2000s, but underneath the Manolos and Cosmopolitans, she was, by most definitions, a pretty terrible friend.
While “Sex and the City” is celebrated for handling frank conversations about female sexuality, friendship and independence, Carrie’s behavior often contradicted the show’s messages of loyalty and sisterhood.
Time and time again, she centered herself in nearly every situation, prioritized men over her friends and offered little in return when her inner circle needed her most.
Carrie had a chronic tendency to make everything about herself. Whether Charlotte was dealing with infertility, Miranda was managing single motherhood or Samantha was battling cancer, Carrie somehow managed to redirect the conversation back to her own romantic entanglements, usually with Mr. Big…
Her self-centeredness wasn’t just annoying; it was dismissive of her friends’ emotional needs.
Then there’s her financial irresponsibility and the way she expected others to bail her out.
In Season 4, Carrie panics about not being able to afford her apartment after losing it in a breakup. Instead of making practical changes, like cutting back on her extravagant designer purchases, she vents to her friends and curates an attitude when Miranda and Samantha offer her money, and Charlotte doesn’t.
Carrie ends up guilt-tripping Charlotte for being generally financially stable until Charlotte gives up her old engagement ring, which Carrie then takes without batting an eye.
The moment perfectly illustrates Carrie’s entitlement: she viewed her friends’ resources as extensions of her own and rarely recognized the privilege of their generosity.
Another troubling pattern is Carrie’s tendency to judge her friends harshly while expecting unconditional support for her own questionable decisions.
She often treated Samantha’s sex-positive lifestyle with condescending comments despite branding herself as an advocate for female sexual freedom. When Miranda expresses doubts about Carrie’s toxic relationship with Big, Carrie pushes back with defensiveness instead of self-reflection.
This double standard made her emotionally exhausting to watch. Quick to call out others but unwilling to confront her own flaws.
Carrie also had a poor track record when it came to respecting boundaries. In Season 3, she has an affair with Big while he’s married to Natasha. When she confesses to her friends, she seeks sympathy rather than accountability.
She gets upset when they don’t immediately condone her actions, showing little understanding of how her choices impacted those around her. Her moral compass seemed guided less by ethics and more by whether or not her behavior made for good column material.
Carrie’s friends frequently went out of their way to support her. But when roles reversed, Carrie was notably absent, distracted or emotionally unavailable.
Complex and flawed characters can still be compelling, and that’s part of why Carrie remains relevant today.
Her imperfections mirror the messy realities of navigating adulthood, ambition and relationships. But if we strip away the glamor and nostalgia, Carrie Bradshaw wasn’t the ride-or-die friend the series often tried to portray her as.
She was, more often than not, someone who took more than she gave. In the end, while “Sex and the City” promoted the idea that female friendships are as vital as romantic relationships, Carrie frequently failed to live up to that ideal.