I can’t speak for every woman.

I can only say what I think about “Sex and the City” as a cultural phenomenon of sorts. Like the characters, the television series had its flaws, even its lies — and it certainly didn’t always portray women in the best light — but what I liked is that it didn’t shy away from certain ugliness under all the hot fashion.

They didn’t try to hide Miranda’s defensiveness, Carrie’s histrionics, Samantha’s promiscuity or Charlotte’s prissiness, but they didn’t apologize for it either. These women were never going to be perfect. Their shoes, sure. But them? Nope.

“Sex and the City” is definitely responsible for introducing a number of fads into society, especially among young, American women. Suddenly, it seemed everyone was wearing a giant flower pin, sipping a Cosmo and flying down to Rio (or at least rushing to the esthetician). But personally, my favorite “Sex and the City”-related trend had nothing to do with cocktails or clothing.

For those who weren’t already aware, “Sex and the City” made it OK, for women to talk openly about sex.

Let’s be honest. We live in a rather prudish society. We blush to say the biological words for our own body parts. To say I’m baffled by that is a mannerly understatement. Eve Ensler was so baffled by it, she wrote “The Vagina Monologues,” which became a cultural phenomenon.

Certain mentalities hold that sex is for the purpose of procreation only. A woman’s role in the sex act is meant to be passive, an acceptance of one’s “wifely duty,” so to speak.

I’m certainly in no position to be saying why people should have sex, but what we can take away from Carrie and the gang on that front is that being open about the topic gives women greater power and self-preservation when it comes to sex.

Of course, “Sex and the City” isn’t the first medium to do this, but it certainly reminded us that sex shouldn’t be a taboo topic. As Charlotte said to her first husband, Trey, “I’m not a Madonna and I’m not a whore.” There are a lot of gray areas when it comes to sex and by speaking openly about the topic, we can only learn.

A friend of mine said she felt that the women of “Sex and the City” weren’t satisfied with their lives until they found men. Honestly, I don’t entirely fault them for that. Not to say I think single women should be dissatisfied.

But I understand the satisfaction, both for men and women, of having a partner to share the daily trials of life with. I also understand the joys of independence, not having another person to answer to or worry about, the pleasure of sustaining one’s self.

And there was a balance — while Charlotte was out husband-shopping, Samantha was grumbling, “I think I have monogamy. I must have gotten it from you people.” Here’s what I really like though: As the series ended and each of the women were beginning to settle into domesticity, they were in their late 30s or early 40s. Not 25.

In fact, the show began with 30-something characters, each of whom was financially independent with an established career. They were each flawed, which I also appreciated. No one belongs on a pedestal, we are all profoundly fallible.

As trite as this may sound, for all the men that floated on and off screen during the six seasons “Sex and the City” was on air, the four women were a constant in viewers’ lives and in one another’s. I don’t have any friends I see quite so often, but it’s a valuable notion — reliability among women and being part of a sisterhood. As Big (I hear he gets a real name in the movie) said to Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha: “You three are the loves of (Carrie’s) life, and a guy’s just lucky to come in fourth.”

All right then. He gets it.