“Sex and the City” is such a metaphor for my life, and now that the last episode has come and gone (beautifully, I might add), I just don’t know when I’ll ever see “Sex” again … in any incarnation.

I called it before the show started: we’ve waited six years to find out Mr. Big’s name, and we did find out. His name is John. It’s not what I was expecting, but then again, I don’t know what else it could have been.

The episode was a brilliant tribute to Sunday nights spent on the couch, finding ourselves in all of the characters. Shawn came over for the last hurrah — we’ve seen every episode of the season together at my place. It was perfect … our characters are where they belong, their lives are exactly on the track that they want them to be on, and we are left to dream about their possibilities.

Oh, yeah, I cried a lot at the end. But that’s to be expected. And forgiven. 🙂

Au revior, Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha. It’s been a glorious six years. Now just hurry up and get the Season Six DVDs out!!! 🙂

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