I’m not ashamed to say that some of the most passionate, committed, and mutually satisfying relationships I’ve been in have been with TV shows. Okay, I lied. I’m a little ashamed to say it.

Each show brings a different brand of romance to my life. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” was reliable and consistent; we were loyal to each other for seven long years. “Glee” was a bit of a whirlwind—season one swept me off my feet, but the following season let me down hard. I’ve had to end it. (It was a rough break up; I prefer not to talk about it).

But my relationship with “Friday Night Lights” was special. Its ratings were low throughout its five years, so I had to treasure each precious moment with the show, knowing full well it could be my last. That final moment came last night, via Netflix, as I did some French homework. I watched Coach and Mrs. Taylor, Tim Riggins, Matt Saracen, and all the other beloved residents of Dillon, Texas ride off into the sunset.

I cried more than I have since Dr. Green died on “ER.”

Like all the best romances, my love for “Friday Night Lights” took me by surprise.  I was a city girl; it was a small-town show. It was about a football team; I’ve never even watched the Super Bowl. But I was hooked from the moment I saw the pilot.

The show focuses on football coach Eric Taylor, his wife Tami, and the high school football players of their town. Each has a heart-wrenching story—second string QB Matt Saracen’s dad is fighting in Iraq, so he lives with his grandmother, who’s rapidly succumbing to Alzheimer’s. Hard-drinking running back Tim Riggins has been abandoned by his parents and is being raised by his well-intentioned but inept older brother. And star quarterback Jason Street? Well, he takes a bad hit and is paralyzed in the very first episode.

Based on that description, you might think FNL throws out every dreary story imaginable, which might be true. But the show presents them as a matter of fact, rather than a problem to be solved, which makes even the most melodramatic story lines feel real. It’s so easy to become engrossed in the lives of the characters in “Friday Night Lights” that I lost my heart at once.

But it’s all over now, canceled after five years of being critically acclaimed and commercially overlooked. I haven’t felt so alone since they took “Freaks and Geeks” away from me after just one season. Where can a broken heart turn now? “Mad Men” seems too cynical; “Breaking Bad” a tad far-fetched. I’m going through a tough time; a TV break up can leave me devastated, wanting to do nothing but listen to Adele while eating Ben & Jerry’s and crying intermittently.

Oh well, I hear “Boardwalk Empire” has been looking pretty good lately.