Four O'Clock changes forever
Why the Oprah void is so big and why straight men still don't get it
She's been saying she was going to retire since I graduated from high school. Oprah Winfrey, that is. The supernova of a talk show host that kept crying wolf.
And then, lo and behold, there she was again, showing up at her trusty 4 p.m. time slot as if she'd never told you it was over.
It was like an ex-boyfriend that kept telling you he loved you. You let him in again, against your better judgment, but you knew eventually, he'd have to go.
Sure, there were a few more years of good times — even great times — but you were always wondering when the other shoe would drop.
For Oprah, the shoe lands on the floor on Wednesday, when her final episode airs.
After 27 years on the air, let's be honest with ourselves — her absence will leave a huge, raw, gaping void.
You can cry on my shoulder if it makes you feel better.
From A.M. Chicago rabble-rouser to international cult maker, Oprah, you were a reliable virtual friend to millions of women for years. Your advice was always universally applicable, your delivery always well-rehearsed, your humor always well-placed, the puzzlement you inspired in straight men thorough.
But for all your supernatural talents and your unfathomable paycheck, you were oddly human, too. Your struggles with weight and body image were painfully public, your relationships imperfect and the criticism they endured brutal.
You really were just one of the girls — the astronomically richer one, of course.
Oprah, you were the confidante the world never knew it needed.
But this breakup has been a long time coming, and we've known it for years. There are no surprises left, Oprah. It's all out on the table.
And now, we're ready for you to leave us, O.
Will you be huddled around the television to wish a fond farewell to Her Royal Highness of Daytime Talk TV?
Go ahead, admit it. We'll be sobbing along with you.