The topics Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda discuss on HBO's hit show, "Sex and the City" are not typical dining hall fodder. These independent women celebrate, question, and fixate upon their sexuality almost constantly – a practice easier done in a New York nightclub than said at a Catholic university. But despite the culture gap created by Notre Dame and Saint Mary's lack of both sex and city, the show's witty writing and situational comedy makes the characters, their exploits, and especially their friendships, accessible and enjoyable even for viewers in South Bend.

The show began five seasons ago on a fairly innocent premise – four, 30-something, single women living and loving in the Big Apple. Carrie Bradshaw, a newspaper sex columnist played by Sarah Jessica Parker, narrates "Sex." Her character is based on the actual New York Observer columns of the popular journalist, Candace Bushnell (who visited Notre Dame during last spring's Sophomore Literary Festival).

Within the first five minutes of most of the 30-minute, commercial free episodes, Carrie composes a question across the screen of her laptop in a practice slightly reminiscent of Doogie Howser, M.D.'s nightly diary. Typically inspired by a problem she or one of her three best friends is experiencing, the question leads her weekly column and frames that episode's content.

Carrie's three best friends comprise the rest of "Sex's" core female cast. Samantha Jones, played by Kim Cattrall, is a seductive, and often lewd public relations executive whose bedroom habits could have inspired Hall and Oates, "Man-eater." Charlotte York, played by Kristin Davis, is an idealistic art gallery owner waiting for her prince charming – as long as he is a wealthy, handsome member of New York's social elite. Finally, Miranda Hobbes, played by Cynthia Nixon, is the yin to Charlotte's yang: She's an independent, if slightly embittered partner in a prominent New York law firm who refuses to let a man play a significant part in her life.

In fact many of the show's male characters come and go with little emotional attachment for the audience. Though the fourth season brought a series of more stable y-chromosomes than its predecessors – a fiancι for Carrie, a steady beau for Samantha, an ex-husband for Charlotte and a newborn son and his father for Miranda – even they were flat characters that often fell into the shadows of the women's many dimensions.

Make no mistake, HBO has not packaged soft-core pornography in expensive New York fashions and called it a series. Rather the cable station set a new standard for social acceptability by allowing women to candidly discuss sex. These are not just any women: They are four successful, eloquent and attractive women who are as ambitious in their sexual exploits as they are their professions. Though their language and topics are often uncouth – it's hardly a show you'd watch with your family after Sunday dinner – it's indisputable that they raise issues many women have long-pondered and probably wanted to discuss, but lacked the venue to do so. Thanks to "Sex" women can talk about their femininity and passions without feeling licentious. They merely ask, "Did you see what Carrie was wearing last night?" and wait for the conversation to turn to the true topics of interest.

Carrie and company's conversations actually reverse a long-standing practice of female objectification. The "Sex" women talk about men in a way that has traditionally been acceptable for men to talk about women, but never vice versa. This, however, is not a two wrongs make a right situation. "Sex" is merely an exercise in "what if?" What if women universally treated men the way men have often treated women?

For example, Samantha hires a male secretary for her PR firm despite the fact he is incompetent at his work simply because she finds him physically attractive. Carrie keeps a male-friend around, not because she cares about him, but just in case she feels randy. Miranda refuses to let anyone she sleeps with spend the night because she has to wake up early for work in the morning. Are any of these situations problematic? Only if the women think so. The show is a deliberately one-sided response to the tunnel vision of a previously male-dominated culture.

While all four women admittedly desire a stable, long-term relationship, they struggle constantly with the seeming impossibility of that occurring while they juggle the rest of their obligations. The fifth season shifts some as it introduces the serious possibility for choosing commitment over quick flings, but one thing remains the same: The show is real. The men they date look like real men, not underwear models; the places they eat are real New York restaurants, and the concerns they have are real women's concerns. The most unreasonable facet of the show is their wardrobe, and the clothes provide entertainment in their own right.

The contrasting opinions, sexual practices and social habits of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda are the thrust of the series. "Sex" has coined terms such trendy terms as manthrax, a man who invades your life, but is terrible for you; f--- buddy, someone you barely know, but keep around for conjugal visits; and frenemies, women who cannot be trusted, but often play nice to get what they want. The women wax eloquent on life, love and languish in a city that might not sleep, but certainly sleeps around.

In its fifth season the show's characters have matured and its subject matter has changed to fit a changed New York. The post-Sept. 11 city has a different feel for natives, an ambiance "Sex" was wise not to ignore. Without being cheesy, in a way a show on which the characters focus primarily on orgasms never could, "Sex" paid tribute to the culture of a city damaged, but invincible by making its characters behave in much the same way. They may go down, but they always bounce back.

Although sex is admittedly the focus of most of their dialogue, the show's sentiment is truly friendly. The four main characters are inseparable and loyal friends who support each other through not only male-related traumas, but other emotional, economic and physical crises as well. In fact, the prevalence of sex in the women's conversations and behaviors has a numbing effect on viewers, but in a positive way. After a few half-hour episodes, the nudity and crudity fades into the background. What true "Sex" addicts come to appreciate is the relationships among the women themselves. Their urban family is not unlike close roommates or lifelong friendships and this is where college viewers' ability to identify with the "Sex" women lies.

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