Goodbye to All That: What I Most Wish for Carrie After 'And Just Like That'

A spoiler-free review

We have seen the last of Carrie Bradshaw. That is, we’re to believe that the series finale of And Just Like That is the finale chapter in a serialized comedy that started way back in 1998 and has offered up six seasons of a hit series (Sex and the City), a prequel series (The Carrie Diaries), two feature films and most recently, these last three helpings of AJLT. I’m unconvinced we won’t be treated (or subjected, if you’re one of her many haters) to a re-boot of The Golden Girls starring the four original female leads. Sex and Assisted Living, anyone?

And honestly, I would tune in. Because—and no spoilers here for anyone who hasn’t watched the finale—the show is ultimately about Carrie’s great friendships. It’s ironic that a show that started out focusing on nabbing erotic bed partners—primarily male, once or twice female and memorably, a special battery-powered rabbit—spends most of its screen time and emotional connection on the dynamics of female friendship. If you’ve been lucky enough to keep a few friends and even make new ones as your lovers unmask, children grow and hip operations ensue, you relate to the dynamic. (And if you don’t have such longtime friends, watching Carrie’s ups and downs with her girl gang make you feel as though you do.)

So yay for Carrie, and yay for us sharing her world for so long. However, I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer her a word or two of direction, you know the way you would a friend. I know her world: Sarah Jessica Parker is my age. In the '90s, I lived above Magnolia Bakery in the West Village where the girls noshed, I was a working journalist, I dated a chorus line of unsuitable men. And I still talk regularly talk to the women who saw me through all of those exploits, just like Carrie does. And it was all great, it is all great. And eventually it all ends...and just like that.

So as a parasocial, real-time Carrie Bradshaw friend of 30 years, I feel sad to note the depth of her connection to others is 1) a corny quip as one of her friend discusses their antics, or 2) a half-hour of pillow talk from a lover. I'm not saying WOMEN MUST HAVE KIDS! or FIND GOD! or even EAT THE RICH! (all of which have been flung at her by Carrie haters). Watching AJLT today, I kept mumbling at my streaming phone: Carrie, there’s got to be more for you now, and I’m not talking romance. I’m talking giving back.

For Carrie Bradshaw's next act, I hope she looks beyond her tight-knit social circle and helps someone less advantaged or younger who needs counsel and support. Look, I'm glad she's parted ways with Aidan, I love her in that quadrillion-dollar Gramercy Park house, I even side with her about Miranda's egregious yogurt theft. And as a writer, I'm actually thrilled she's gung-ho on a new project (and writers are never happy for other writers, trust me). I am even all here for her wackadoo Strawberry Shortcake hat in this season’s premiere episode and other cray get-ups.

But I want more for Carrie, an emotional sustenance that’s only replenished through selflessly giving to others. She’s got the time and the resources to share—and I want this connection to the world outside her tiny New York bubble in the way that my mother always wanted me to “settle down” and get married. I say this to her as a woman whose life experiences also include slicing up the Big Apple and burying a husband. Truth is, I'm finding real meaning these days in acts of service to people and places I was always too busy rushing past in years prior.

I hear there's a mayorial election in New York City, Carrie. What about hosting a fundraiser for a candidate? How about mentoring a public school kid with literary aspirations? Maybe there's a global shoe exchange for the needy that needs you? Just riffing here, but you see where I'm going with this.

I choose to believe that Carrie’s newfound confidence, rekindled creativity and expansive square footage will lead her to share her good fortune with others, in a non-sexy but perhaps socio-spiritually fulfilling next act. Maybe the following will flow from her pen: "The woman found her joy in helping the LGBTQ+ community center and awakened a peace in her that surpassed a season of soldiers." It’s a happy thought, one that’s worthy of that gorgeous tutu she’s wearing in the finale. (Sorry—that’s just one detail that’s too perfect not to spoil.)