Carrie Bradshaw is going to be just fine.
If you've watched the final-ever episode of HBO Max's And Just Like That..., you'll know that too. If you haven't, you should probably avert your eyes — spoilers ahead.
The ending was, in my opinion, the perfect send-off for Carrie — a full circle moment, ending nearly three decades on our screen, just as she started: single.
The finale opens with Carrie dining solo in a futuristic Japanese restaurant featuring robots and menus on tablets. When she places her order, a member of staff places a cuddly toy tomato named Tommy as company, the consolation prize, so she doesn't have to eat alone.
Carrie is rightfully affronted by this, and as a frequent solo diner, I happen to agree with this justified outrage. Eating on our own is actually a luxury that many people do not have: parents wrangling active kids at dinnertime will attest to this, I'm sure. Being able to sit in complete silence and enjoy your food in blissful silence? It's heaven-sent, frankly.
In the previous episode of AJLT, the first half of the finale, Carrie handed in her manuscript to her editor, who declared it a "romantic tragedy" that the protagonist ends up alone. Again, rude. What's tragic about choosing yourself? What is this chasmic void that suddenly needs filling?
After the solo dining-shaming incident, Carrie declares, "Apparently, not only is it tragic for women to be alone in the past, it's also an issue in the future."
It's an episode that wrestles with the endings we've been conditioned to crave. Seema questions whether she really wants marriage, or if she's just spent her whole life being told she should aspire to so-called matrimonial bliss. "Do I really want it, or am I just programmed for it?" she asks as she and Carrie watch a bridal fashion show. Meanwhile, Charlotte and Lisa grapple with the realities of marriage versus the fantasies they had before entering it. The message seems to be: wedded "bliss" isn't exactly all it's cracked up to be.
I, and many others, were hoping for this ending. After years of centering men, Carrie is finally putting her own needs first. In this final season of the show, we endured several episodes of Aidan being a truly abysmal partner. And somehow, Carrie kept coming back for more — until she finally snapped (which was a long time coming). Aidan asked for a hell of a lot in that relationship, namely waiting for him for five years in a state of celibacy, in an empty furniture-less apartment, waiting until he was finally available. Carrie isn't even sure how often she should text Aidan, seemingly because she doesn't want to bother him or be too needy. Girl, are we for real with this cool girl behaviour? "DUMP HIM," I screamed at my television after every episode. And thankfully, the message seemed to get through when she got tired of his possessive, jealous bullshit.
Of course, while all this Aidan nonsense was happening, many of us were also urging her to sleep with the sexy British downstairs neighbour. Sure, he's a curmudgeon who won't let her wear her signature heels around her flat (oppression!) — but he's charming. When Carrie says, "I’ve never experienced a man see me as smart first," I feel sad. How is it possible that a woman with seven bestsellers and an illustrious writing career spanning several decades is still having her intellect diminished?
"Carrie Bradshaw, you're a thing," Duncan announces mid-epiphany as if he's somehow only just discovered this. Have you been hiding under a rock? Too busy writing about Margaret Thatcher to see the icon you have in front of you? Anyway, despite his charms, it's also a no from me on this one.
By the penultimate episode, it was clear that there were no worthy contenders in the race to win Carrie's affection. It was high time to stop catering to men's needs, bending and breaking yourself to suit their demands, and not being seen for all that you are. Do we really want our girl to settle for less than she deserves?
What's interesting about Carrie's attitude in the final episode is her willingness to admit that she's previously looked to aloneness as an impermanent state, a means to an end — the end being the man.
But we see Carrie begin to question: What if she just stands still for a while and doesn't try to "fix" her singleness by bringing a man into the picture?
Carrie tells Charlotte, "I've never lived alone without the thought that I wouldn't be alone for long."
"I have to quit thinking 'maybe a man,' and start accepting 'maybe just me.' It's not a tragedy, it's just a fact," she adds.
But, I'd go as far as to say that "just me" isn't just a fact, it's a triumph. And there's no "just" about it. Carrie, on her own, is Carrie at her best.
As Barry White's "My Everything" plays at the closing scene of the episode, Carrie's voice tells us, "She was not alone; she was on her own."
If we contrast that line with Carrie's parting words in the final episode of Sex And The City, there's a very stark contrast:
"Later that day, I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous."
Carrie knew it then, back in 2004: The real love story all along was the one she had with herself. Anything else is just an added extra.
The complete series of And Just Like That... is now streaming on HBO Max.
