Everything I’ve known seems to be changing, ending and this concept saddens me. Mattel is discontinuing the Ken doll and replacing him with some Australian boogie boarder. Cathy the comic has even succumbed to Irvin’s wooing and agreed to marry him, ending her reign as the single overeater with nagging parents.

And as of Sunday at 9 p.m., “Sex and the City” as I’ve known it will be obsolete, leaving me desperately clinging on to the DVD collection that I own, covet and cherish.

I realize that I’ve probably lost the interest of almost every male out there, and I’m probably disappointing at least one English professor by talking about something as vain as a television show, but I will have it no other way. I have to dedicate this column to the show that has infused me with a liberating sense of womanhood.

“Sex and the City” has banded women together everywhere. For the past year, my friends and I have revolved our schedules around Sunday nights. We made dinner for each other and chatted about boys and their shortcomings until it was time to gather around the warm glow of cable television to allow Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda’s lives to carry us far away from our daily stresses, and I know we’re not alone.

I even managed to find a heterosexual boy who liked “Sex and the City.” He told me that the show helped him gain a woman’s perspective on dating. He found that some girls had sex regularly without commitment, while others yearned for the fairy tale romance, basking in thoughts of happily ever after.

The show has helped alleviate so many stigmas attached to single, successful women who enjoy sex like a “man.” For the first time I felt normal for not wanting to fall in love, for wanting to experience college and make out with random cute boys at parties whenever I felt the need.

And I think women everywhere were shown that it was okay to have sex without looking for commitment, assuaging the double standard of promiscuous women and men. HBO has provided strong, independent female role models who enjoy dining with girlfriends and unapologetically explore their sexuality and successes.

The writers even grappled with the concept of female masturbation, a subject that many girls I know consider taboo in both discussion and experimentation. But it happens, it’s actually quite normal and it should be discussed like it is with boys. I know many girls with personal sex toys; I have a friend who managed to wear out the “Rabbit”-a vibrator that Carrie, Samantha and Miranda had to pry from Charlotte’s hand after she became addicted to its sensation and cut ties with the world

“Sex and the City” pushed the limits and invented unforgettable characters. At times when I should have been analyzing contemporary novels, I was busy arguing that Aiden was too perfect, and that Big was the big man in Carrie’s life.

I talked about these girls like they were my friends. I think a lot of people did.

Sometimes I would fight with my friends over who would be who if “Sex and the City” were our reality. I always wanted to be Carrie, and now I win every time because let’s face it, I have my own column and you can’t argue with that.

But I laughed. I cried. I learned a lot. From cancer to cosmopolitans and STD’s, I wouldn’t have traded one episode for another season of “My So Called Life” and a date with Jordan Catalano.

For the past couple of years, I’ve managed to live vicariously through their lives and now I realize that it’s time for me to move on, to create a reality for myself that I won’t compromise. I’m sad, but I’m ready to move on, a good thing shouldn’t last forever. So thank you “Sex and the City,” you’ve been a great friend.

Lindsay’s humor column runs in every Thursday issue of the Herald. Want to tell her your favorite “Sex and the City” episode, e-mail her at [email protected].