Sometimes it’s hard to say goodbye to a thing, even when it needs to end. In the same way that I cried at my college graduation despite being extremely ready to stop attending, so do I mourn the end (for now, at least, per Page Six) of The Real Housewives of New York City, even though the show was—pretty objectively speaking—ready to conclude its recent trend of working passionately to make something out of nothing.

While I can’t speak for much of RHONY’s 17-year history, I am intimately familiar with the goings-on of the current cast, and as such, I feel reasonably qualified to say that not much was going on with Jenna, Brynn, Ubah, Jessel, Erin, Sai, Racquel, Rebecca, or any members of their extended universe by the end of last season. Indeed, much of the drama painstakingly squeezed out of Season 15 concerned a fake rumor spread among the women for the specific purpose of seeing how far it would travel. And yet! I was somehow still riveted!

Do I think it’s a matter of national import that RHONY continue to air with its current cast lineup? No, but checking in to see what nonsense the girlies were up to felt like attending a weekly dinner party with longtime friends I had nothing in common with anymore but still enjoyed gossiping about. In a way, I wonder if catching up on RHONY drama in my 30s has replaced the chaotic friend-group drama of my 20s: Now that I’ve stopped picking inane fights with my friends, I’ve had the emotional capacity to keep up with the socio-emotional mess wrought by the RHONY crew, and it’s hard to imagine my week without them. Someone pick up Season 16 on another network challenge! Those are my emotional support toxic besties!