From voice-dictated texts to pastel dating disasters, the girls of Manhattan are back—fumbling, fierce, and unapologetically fabulous.
New York is once again the main character—and so are its rats. And Just Like That… returns with Episode 2 of its third season, titled “The Rat Race,” and the episode does not shy away from metaphor or vermin. In true Manhattan fashion, we’re reminded that alongside Upper East Side charm and café garden daydreams, there’s always something scuttling just beneath the surface. This week, it’s literal rodents and emotional ones too—ghosts of exes, gender identity confusion, and pastel-clad compromises included.
Welcome to the city that never sleeps and certainly never lets you date in peace.
Carrie Bradshaw: Love, Loathing, and a Pack of Rats
We open on Carrie—ethereal in a sundress, pen in hand, attempting to flirt with historical fiction in her dreamy Gramercy backyard. Cue: the rat invasion. Urban rodents—dirty, swift, and unapologetic—burst from under her Japanese maple like a metaphor from her own relationship history. Carrie’s once again faced with the kind of chaos that usually cues either a breakup or a book deal.
Alas, Aidan isn’t there. And it seems Carrie isn’t even sure if she should want him to be.
The relationship—if we can still call it that—is currently defined by ambiguous boundaries, withheld texts, and emotionally charged emojis. (She voice-drafts a whole confession to Aidan, only to delete it. Painfully relatable.) Aidan, to his credit, shows up—parachuting in from Virginia on a whim, apparently rattled by their lukewarm phone sex and the ghosts of the past. He apologizes, vaguely, for “going overboard” with his contact rules, and Carrie is granted permission to call and text freely once more. A breakthrough? Sort of.
Enter the dining table. “It’s got woodwork like you and style like me,” she messages him with vintage-Carrie charm. A thumbs-down emoji is his reply. Thumbs down. In the parlance of digital affection, it’s practically an insult—and the emotional tailspin that ensues feels like a love story rewritten for the iMessage generation. Eventually, Carrie settles on a passive-aggressive eye-roll emoji in return. If that’s not modern romance, what is?
Miranda Hobbes: The Bi-Bingo Blunder
Miranda, meanwhile, is undergoing her own kind of identity crisis—binging Bi Bingo, a bisexual reality dating show that somehow convinces her she may be queer again. Her interest in the contestants leads to a tragically misguided attempt to flirt with a much-younger guacamole-serving waitress at brunch. But the server is quick to shut it down: she’s straight, married, and a mother. Her razor-sharp line, “I watch The Walking Dead and I’m not a zombie,” is the kind of humiliation that makes you want to crawl into the couch cushions.
But redemption may be on the horizon. Enter Joy—the impossibly cool British producer from season two—who waltzes back into Miranda’s life with charm and British wit in tow. Their office encounter at Human Rights Watch crackles with chemistry. Could Joy be Miranda’s post-Che rebirth? We’re rooting for it.
Seema Patel: Pastel, Pearls, and the Power of No
Post-Ravi, Seema is back on the dating scene with a martini in one hand and a metaphorical red flag detector in the other. MBA? Too corporate. Divorced-but-not-officially? Too complicated. Named Wolf? Just… no. Her dating algorithm is brutal and brilliant.
Her business partner, Elliott, decides it’s time to intervene—enter Sydney, a no-nonsense matchmaker with a PhD in conformist couture. Sydney instructs Seema to ditch the metallics and animal prints (read: personality) in favor of soft florals and demure pastels, lest she appear “predatory” to potential suitors. The makeover is more social experiment than style choice. And when Seema, swathed in lavender and pearls, sits across from a silver-haired drone with opinions on campaign finance reform, it all becomes too much. The pearls begin to feel like shackles.
By dessert, she’s done pretending. Seema unapologetically reclaims her voice—and her animal print.
Charlotte & Lisa: The Ivy League Circus
While the others grapple with rats and romance, Charlotte and Lisa spiral into suburban academia madness. Their mission? Enlist the elusive Lois Fingerhood—a.k.a. the Ivy League whisperer—to transform their perfectly gifted teens into Harvard material. They find her through digital sleuthing and desperation, only to be told their kids are too “well-rounded.” Apparently, what elite colleges want now is “pointy” people.
The revelation sends both teens—and their mothers—into existential meltdowns. The subplot feels like satire, but it hits close to home in a world where college prep starts at birth. Still, it gives us the delightfully unhinged moment of Charlotte screaming, “F*** Lois fing Fingerf!”—a line destined for the franchise’s Hall of Fame.
Final Thoughts: Chaos, Catharsis, and Carrie’s Dining Table
Episode 2 is And Just Like That at its narrative best—chaotic, stylish, and rooted in a deep emotional honesty about aging, reinvention, and that insatiable New York hunger for more. Our protagonists may be in flux, but they are never static. They stumble. They self-sabotage. They misread cues and rewrite the rules.
Whether you’re battling rats in the garden, trying to decode a thumbs-down emoji, or enduring pastel purgatory for the sake of love—Season 3 reminds us that life, like Manhattan itself, is messy, magnificent, and always worth showing up for.
And just like that… the girls are very much back.
