I awoke on Friday feeling energized, excited and expectant, one thought drumming through my head: today is the day. A special outfit, picked out two days in advance, hung at the front of my closet. The tickets to the show were sitting securely in my purse. I could almost feel an electric buzz in the air as I thought to myself, in just a few hours I’ll be seeing the Sex and the City movie. If I could stand the suspense long enough.

I set my hair early, wrapping my head in a green bandana so no one could see my curlers. I started making confirmation calls at four in the afternoon (I was going to leave my apartment at eight), and by the time the clock struck five I was sitting on the couch with three bags of make-up spread around me. For this special opening night, I was leaving absolutely nothing to chance.

I’d given myself three hours to put on make-up, un-set my hair and dress in an outfit I had planned down to the very smallest detail. I was still running ten minutes behind by the time one of my girlfriends - and dates for the evening - was knocking on my door. I carried my shoes in their box on my way to the car (it takes a better woman than I to drive in six-inch heels with platforms), my feet covered for this short trip in my house shoes.

The two of us picked up the last member to round out our group, and by nine in the evening we were walking toward the theater - more than an hour early for the flick. Each of us wore a similar outfit, though not at all by design, so that the three of us were a matched set of high heels, designer jeans and tank-style peasant blouses (in varying shades of pink and purple). Each of us had our faces expertly painted and our hair styled just so - we barely cracked the windows while we rode in the car for fear of errant winds messing up our carefully arranged coifs.

We entered the theater and made a beeline for a bar (conveniently situated beyond the ticket sellers we had no need to visit), grabbing the room’s only empty table. As far as the eye could see, groups of well-dressed women congregated around their cosmos. A harried barmaid approached our table with a gleam in her eye “it’s going to be a few minutes, ladies, we’re really busy tonight.” A quick glance around the room showed tables overflowing with women of all ages, many of them stopping theater employees to shove cameras in their hands and pose for pictures.

The three of us were thrilled. In theaters arranged all throughout the movie house, screens were set to show summer blockbusters like Iron Man and Indiana Jones. But no where we looked could we see a single man in sight - unless he was wearing a theater uniform, of course. Friday night at the movies this weekend was all about girlfriends, high heels, picture-taking and cosmos. It was exactly as it should have been.

We had tickets for the show to start just after ten, a prime time for movie-going on any Friday in the world. The summer season is a heightened time for movies, but last night it seemed that only one was playing - in the very biggest movie house in my city, Sex was playing in the building’s very largest theater. Not Indiana Jones. Sex and the City.

We piled in to the theater twenty minutes before the movie was scheduled to start and counted ourselves lucky to find three seats together, somewhat high up in the room. As I looked around I couldn’t help but to grin - the theater was full of nothing but women.

It took for ever for the house lights to dim, and in the space of ten seconds the chattering voices of a roomful of females suddenly became very, very still. An expectant hush filled the air. And then, the first strains of the Sex theme song began to play. The entire theater broke out into applause, and I felt my eyes grow moist. This was it - finally. After a four-year wait, I was happily ensconced in a huge theater with my fellow single women all clumped around, and together we would share the movie that was promised to us so very long ago.

If you’re expecting the Sex and the City movie to be like Sex and the City the series, you will not be disappointed. Replete with voice-overs, costume-changes, fashion montages (yes, there’s more than one!), and hot sex scenes, it’s the movie we all waited so very long to enjoy. In fact, it’s much better than even I imagined - an awesome feat, considering my own enormously high expectations.

Is it true to the show? Yes. Does it pick up right where the series left off? Yes. Are there moments so grand that an entire theater could break into applause, laughter and cheers of glee? Indeed, for it happened several times. But there were other moments, too - when an entire theater of girls collectively gasped, when women could be heard sniffing back tears and asking each other for tissue, when the only proper reaction to what was happening on screen were cries of pure dismay.

By the time the credits rolled I was sitting with a pile of damp tissues on my lap, and the entire theater again erupted in happy applause. As the three of us strode away from the room in our expensive shoes, we saw groups of women crowding together to have more pictures taken. “Sex and the City!” cried one collection of well-dressed females (no less than eight of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder in high heels for the group photo op) as they smiled for three cameras they handed to us so we could capture this moment. Before we walked away, we gave into temptation and shoved a camera in one of their hands as well. “Now, take our picture!” And we were swept up into posing, posturing and all the picture-taking glory.

At one in the morning we finally made it to the car, still gabbing about the funny moments, the touching moments, the shocking moments - and the ending which left us all so inordinately pleased.

It was girls’ night out, amped up to the extreme. Not only was I having a girls’ night out with my girlfriends, I was having it with all my girlfriends (Samantha, Miranda, Carrie and Charlotte) and all the other girls in the city as well. Together we clapped, together we cried, together we laughed and together, we found out what happens when you finally find love (and, the movie you’ve been waiting for years and years to see).

Sexy, fun, fashionable, touching, jaw-dropping, happy and exciting - and this time, I’m not talking about my special shoes but the movie itself. If I could, I would do it all over again tonight. The Sex and the City movie was definitely - utterly - worth a four-year wait. I suggest you view the flick in heels to get the full appreciation for this most wonderful event - and be sure to keep your girls close at hand, with the tissues tucked within easy reach.