I’ll admit it, I never liked Sex and the City. Its premise to me always seemed amazingly depressing, and the idea that women can take on men’s vices and then get old-fashioned fairy tale endings seemed counter-intuitive, if not outright delusional. The Mr. Bigs of the world don’t date older average-looking, high-maintenance career women and marry them. They may have sex with them, but no rings are exchanged. Men who are Masters of the Universe marry supermodels whose skin is still dewy, whose boobs are still perky, and whose fertility is still in full bloom. That may not be fair, it may not be romantic, but that’s the way it is. Anyone female who survived high school and was honest with herself can give you a pretty accurate estimate of what her social value was and tell you which guys were “out of her reach” (as well as those she considered “below her touch”). It’s the same after high school, with a fair number of other complicating factors thrown in the mix.