I came across The End of The F***ing World via a review in The Atlantic by Sophie Gilbert who calls it “Pitch-Black Perfection.” I was immobilized, anyway, from my vasectomy the day before, so armed with the perfect alibi to binge-watch for an entire day, I decided to give The End of The F***ing World a try. And I’m glad I did.

I was initially hooked in by the black humor, the first few episodes sort of seem Coen Brothers-esque. A boy and a girl are going through the normal funny quirks and weirdness of their late teen years, yet the girl “has issues” and the boy she “feels safe with” is going through an odd sort of identity crisis: he thinks he may be a serial killer. So, while she is deciding whether or not she loves him, he’s toying with ideas on how to make her his first victim.

It’s truly not as bleak as it may sound, however. First, the characters and character-development are very compelling. As the story unfolds, the range of the two characters expands, the story takes on a growing sense of urgency, and you start rooting for these two underdogs.

The End of The F***ing World was conceptually interesting, but it really charmed me, and the ending was rewarding. In total, Season 1 runs about two and a half hours, about the length of a movie — and like other fans, I’m hoping that there is a Season 2.