For a lot of 'Lost' fans, the only numbers that really matter anymore are 5, 23, and 10 - May 23rd of this year, the Dharma Train finally pulls into the station and we'll find out once and for all whether the writers knew what they were doing.

It's almost a certainty that you're going to be disappointed. Had the show ended during its second or third season, I would have stocked up on flashlights, canned goods, and pornography to wait out the riots that surely would have followed some lame "not all questions are meant to be answered" kind of ending.

I'm not worried now because that kind of car-tipping passion just isn't there anymore. For most fans, this last season marked the moment when our relationship with 'Lost' stopped being a love affair and started being a loveless marriage.

You're probably thinking that someone who wants to seriously compare romantic relationships with the way people feel about television has an Abed-level of inability to relate to people in a normal way. And to that I say: Shazbot! I know exactly how Earth people interact with other Earth people. Kay-o?

It's just hard to deny the parallels between TV and romance:

1. Infatuation.

"So, I'm clicking around last night, not really expecting anything to happen and I wind up on this channel that I never, ever watch. I was just about to turn off the TV and go use G.I. Joe figures to recreate Frederich Hart's 'Ex nihilo' - don't judge! it's a hobby! - when I found this new TV show! It's got everything! Romance! Action! Science Fiction! A POLAR BEAR! I mean, I don't want to be weird or anything, but it feels like maybe I was meant to find this show."

2. Love

"And another thing I love about 'Lost' is that they don't answer everything like right away, they kind of give you enough answers to make you happy, but then, get this, with every new answer comes like FIVE new questions. And another thing I love about 'Lost' is..."

3. Disappointment

"Don't get me wrong, I still love 'Lost', it's just that it's been four years already. When the hell are we going to get any answers!? I mean, every time they give you ONE answer, you get like FIVE new questions. It's driving me insane!"

4. Doubt

"Sometimes I'll be watching 'Lost' and wondering what else is on. Things just got so complicated all of a sudden. I didn't get into this to study charts online just so I could figure out what the hell is going on. I mean, it's supposed to be fun, right? RIGHT!?"

5. Settling

"Well, I've come this damn far. I might as well see it out till the end."

Judging by what I've read online and what my friends are saying about 'Lost', it appears that most of us are in that final phase. We just want to make it to the end.

Even the quality of that ending doesn't matter all that much. So maybe the Flash-Sideways takes away some dramatic connection to the characters. And maybe it's becoming painfully obvious by what Lindelof and Abrams are saying publicly that not every question is going to be answered completely. And maybe once this thing finally ends and we watch all the episodes in order, the show won't look like a grand tapestry of genius, but rather a pretentious D&D campaign.

So what? We've come this far. We're sticking it out.

'Lost' certainly isn't the only show that has ended as a loveless marriage. Most people watched the last few years of 'ER' on pure sense memory. Every episode of the 'Gilmore Girls' after Amy Sherman-Palladino left felt like a stale fart at a hate-filled Thanksgiving Dinner. Even the nine people on the planet who still watch 'Smallville' have gotten tired of writing Lex Luthor/Clark Kent slash fiction: they just want to see Superman in the damned costume and then be done with it.

For all of these shows, the passion left the relationship, yet every night we crawled into bed with them anyway.

It's a testament to the connection we have with TV that we not only get to this point, but that it's commonplace. What other medium in the history of humankind has the power to keep its viewers hooked well after the point where they stopped caring?

It makes sense. We spend more time with our TV family than we do with our own, so of course the connection is deeper.

Don't believe me? Think about '24', a show so far past its expiration date that I expect it to show up on sale at the Kwik-E-Mart any time now. You're still watching, though, because by the end of this eighth season, we'll have spent close to 200 hours with Uncle Jack. I'm not sure I've logged 150 solid hours with my wife.

(It's not just me - gun-to-head, I think my wife would choose 'The Office' over me, despite the fact that somewhere in the last 6 months, the show turned into a giant, pulsating sack of suck, not unlike that heart thing at the end of 'Contra').

It's probably better that series decline into the Loveless Marriage stage. It's the only way to painlessly say goodbye to our favorite shows. When a show gets canceled while its fans are still in love with it, things tend to get insufferable. Do you really want to watch another whiny fan base send nuts to CBS? Yeah, me neither.

When 'Lost' ends no one will be carving four-toed statues in the hope that ABC changes its mind. When that last hour airs, good or bad, we'll breathe a sigh of relief and get on with our lives.

And by "get on with our lives" I mean, of course, "go find another show to fall in love with".

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Column note: starting today, I'm headed to Germany and Italy to do a two week comedy tour for our troops. I hope to file TV 101s from across the Atlantic, but I'm not 100% sure that Europe has the internet yet. I'll do my best, but if TV 101 disappears for a couple of weeks, I hope you'll understand why.

(Jay Black is a writer and comedian who really hopes you enjoy this column. You can find out where to catch Jay's live shows by going to his website www.jayblackcomedy.net).