Look at that headline, look at these words: I want eight seasons of Bridgerton. I genuinely hope that Netflix for once stops playing its "fourth and final season" games, and that we can trust the streaming giant, in partnership with Shonda Rhimes' Shondaland empire, to deliver us new stories of Regency romance every year until 2028. And after you watch this first season, I feel pretty certain that you'll agree.

Bridgerton, based on the novels by Julia Quinn, draws us into the world of London's 19th-centrury "marriage market," where eligible young women trying to find a suitable husband isn't just a casual game but pretty much life-or-death business. It comes along with beautiful dresses, beautiful men, and lots of delicious gossip fueled by the pamphlets published by the mysterious "Lady Whistledown" (voiced by Julie Andrews, which, hell yeah). But it's still an intense situation, especially for young Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor), whose romantic fate is the core of the first season, one which becomes reliant on the cooperation of the dashing but distant Simon (Regé-Jean Page).

Yes, you know what you're in for (theoretically) based on the premise alone. But Bridgerton's most fascinating element might be the fact that it is in fact sexual on a level beyond what those used to BBC Jane Austen adaptations are used to, but it is also fully cognizant of how sexuality in this era was treated. This not only means some pretty intense moments of sexuality right from the beginning, but also the fact that the characters' understanding of basic matters like birth control proves to be a major plot issue.

Honestly, never have I felt more grateful for the very bare-bones sex education course I got in junior high — many references to how horny this show is have been made, but Bridgerton also captures the terror of just not understanding what those feelings are, and how they might drive you to making truly terrible mistakes. It's impossible to talk about this show without talking about it embraces sex, but it's also impossible to talk about this show without how it acknowledges its complications in a restrictive society like this.

While restrictive in certain arenas, Bridgerton also does a beautiful job of modernizing this narrative with both some delightfully eclectic song choices — instrumental covers of pop songs that make these Regency balls feel like the local clubs — as well as casting people of color as key characters, which I decline to refer to as color-blind casting because the question of race and how it exists within this society is not glossed over. All of it is in service to the cause of telling Daphne and Simon's story in a way that proves truly addicting and bingeable.

Romance as a genre has always suffered from the expectations heaped on it, the jokes made about it — something which its fans are incredibly sensitive to, and, in my opinion, for good reason. No one raises an eyebrow when a James Bond tale ends with the hero beating the villain and getting the girl, but a man and a woman overcoming their own obstacles to find love is never taken seriously? We always should reach for and celebrate challenging art, but there's value to also celebrating a show that knows exactly what it wants to achieve, and nails the landing.

I already told Bridgerton showrunner Chris Van Dusen this (in an interview to run soon) so I might as well tell you — earlier this year I found myself tearing through romance novels, especially Regency-era titles. While I never got a chance to read Quinn's books (blame long library lead times), I did find myself reading a lot of stories about dukes, and pretty dresses, and questions of propriety, all of it such a beautiful transport away from my troubles.

I happen to be the daughter of a romance novelist, so I know this genre intimately, and what I know is that Shondaland seems to know exactly what it's doing when it comes to bringing this sort of narrative to life. And that comes not just in the fact that it's a romance with a happy ending, but how there are still so many stories to be told within the world of Bridgerton, carefully laid out throughout the first season. This especially connects to the show's biggest mystery: While Gossip Girl never revealed the identity of that show's truthteller until the final season, fans of the books won't be shocked by who the season finale identifies as Lady Whistledown, and that discovery alone should hopefully trigger many more seasons to come.

What Bridgerton does is to create a world where romance and sex and hate and love and fear all live together — a place soaked in familiarity that still manages to be an escape. The costumes are beautiful. The actors are on point. It's a show that knows exactly what it is, but beautifully achieves that while also still layering in some surprises and modern twists. Turn your nose up at it, if you like. But you'll miss out on some of the year's most enjoyable television yet.

Grade: A-

Bridgerton is streaming now on Netflix. For more, check out all of Collider's ongoing Bridgerton coverage.