Dying for Sex ending explained: How a story about pleasure became a poignant goodbye

What begins as a provocative journey of self-discovery in FX’s Dying for Sex gradually transforms into something far deeper and more unforgettable: a raw, nuanced portrait of how we say goodbye. Based on the real-life story of Molly Kochran and adapted from the Wondery podcast of the same name, the Emmy-nominated series manages to balance irreverent humor, sex-positive storytelling, and devastating emotional beats without losing its core message—that living fully means dying on your own terms.

The final episode doesn’t shy away from death. It leans in gently but unapologetically. By the time we arrive at Molly’s hospice chapter, sex has taken a back seat. What lingers is her unbreakable bond with best friend Nikki, her reckoning with old wounds, and a surreal, strangely uplifting march toward the inevitable. It’s weird. It’s beautiful. It’s heartbreaking in a way that’s hard to shake off.

And yes, the finale delivers one of the most unique death scenes on television. Think: emotional hallucinations, one last dance party, and a stubborn insistence that her jaw not be left hanging open after she dies. (You laugh. Then you cry. Then you laugh while crying.)

Letting go, one moment at a time

When Molly is told that the cancer has spread to her brain, she doesn’t spiral. She steadies herself. There’s a darkly comedic tone to how she receives the news—not from her doctor, but from an overly cheerful hospice nurse (played with perfect weirdness by Paula Pell). Her pink hair transformation follows soon after, not as a last hurrah but as a personal ritual, a way to reclaim her identity one last time. It’s defiant. It’s tender. And it signals that she’s ready to die with as much intentionality as she lived her final years.

As Molly enters hospice, the show shifts into something dreamlike. Hallucinations blend with reality. She imagines having telekinetic powers, relives sexual encounters with a touch of absurdity, and floats in and out of lucidity. These surreal vignettes are less about shock value and more about showing us how time bends in the presence of death. It’s not a descent—it’s a transformation. Her “rally,” the last burst of energy before the body shuts down, becomes a moment of grace: filled with laughter, love, and the kind of joy that makes saying goodbye feel almost… bearable.

A final wish, and a glimpse of what could’ve been in Dying for Sex

Trending

For all its bold storytelling and emotional gut punches, Dying for Sex ends with a whisper, not a bang. Molly chooses sedation to ease her final hours, supported by Nikki and her mother, Gail. It’s not assisted suicide—it’s surrender, with agency. Her final words feel like poetry: a comparison of death to a long-delayed trip. After years of canceled plans and chronic pain, she’s finally going somewhere. She slips away quietly. But even then, Nikki fights to give her friend dignity, fussing over something as simple—and oddly funny—as Molly’s jaw not staying shut. It’s morbid, yes. But it’s also love, in its most practical form.

The show’s closing scene brings a full-circle emotional payoff. Nikki, now directing The Tempest, catches a glimpse of two older women laughing over lunch—strangers who feel like echoes of her and Molly in an alternate universe. They’re chatting animatedly, making hand gestures that unmistakably suggest sex. And just like that, Dying for Sex reminds us that grief and humor, death and desire, pain and playfulness aren’t opposites. They’re just… life. All tangled together.

×

Was this article helpful?

Thank You for feedback