Every week, women across North America get their vicarious voyeuristic kicks at watching the sexploits of four single, successful, independent women in New York. They appear to embody everything a modern woman could want. They have satisfying upper middle class jobs, they have apartments in swinging Manhattan, they're beautiful and bed many men. They have a strong bond of friendship, meeting regularly to discuss their conquests and relationships.

We're excited to be privy to this girl talk, which is not to be found anywhere in mainstream TV, and forget about feature films. It's refreshing to hear women openly discuss their sex lives; it allows us to eavesdrop on what other women are up to and gauge our personal lives against theirs. We cheer their strength and independence. And yet, their chatter betrays varying degrees of yearning for The One.

Charlotte is the most honest and upfront about her wish to bag an attractive, generous, gainfully employed husband. Even though she runs an art gallery, you know she would ditch it all in a New York minute for The One. You recoil at her neediness, telling yourself there can't be any trace of it in your heart.
Miranda has worked hard to become a partner in her law firm. She's the least feminine of the quartet, more brittle and, it would seem, less attractive to men.

Samantha is the most liberal; her libido matches any man's. She is brazenly promiscuous and unapologetic about it. But in rare introspective moments, even she betrays her desire for love.

Carrie, the main character, lies somewhere in between her three friends. She's slept with a lot of guys, but occasionally she'll confess that she's holding out hope that eventually one of her paramours will be The One.

We share in their shame at these revelations. It seems so weak, so un-man like, to harbour this hope for The One. After all, equality means being like men doesn't it? Pursuing our careers because economic self preservation is essential; sexual encounters with emotional detachment because emotional self preservation is paramount. The women succeed in the former and less so on the latter.

This season, Carrie celebrated her 35th birthday alone. No one shows up for her birthday dinner and the crowning blow is when her birthday cake arrives and she has to shell out for it. She hates to admit it to herself, but she wonders whether she'll ever find a soul mate.

The hard and sad truth is, no matter what strides women have made towards equality, there's still a Cinderella lurking within us. We can't and don't want someone to take care of us financially. We want emotional connection to a significant other. We go out in the world with a brave front, signalling to others we're tough broads, but we're still soft inside. With a man, we attempt to affect this cool exterior, trying not to let it show that we hold out a slim hope that he's The One. We're on this frightening emotional tightrope.

Step one way, show you're vulnerable and your heart could plummet when he cuts the rope. Step too far the other way, wrap your feelings tightly in a cocoon and your heart atrophies, the rope frays.

This is the dilemma and challenge facing the characters on Sex and the City. And each week, we see the solution has yet to be found.