I’ve made no secret of my love for “Ted Lasso,” and I had a lot of concerns about the reboot of the series with a new season.

As Jamie Tartt says, “the enemy of good is perfection.” And, before you continue, know that there may be series spoilers ahead. I dislike it when Hollywood or the other entertainment powers that be seem to try to wring every last dollar out of something that is successful, and I worried that “Ted” would lose some of its magic.

I was wrong. The story wasn’t over. Or maybe a better way of looking at it was that there was another story to tell. I’ve always been suspicious of fairy tale endings and strongly suspected if we ever came back to any of the characters a few years later, very little of that happy ending would remain.

I’m happy to report that Ted and the gang seemed to navigate this jump pretty well. Happily, for me, the characters continued to evolve and grow, and throughout the new season, that was evident.

The characters in “Ted” are all fundamentally decent people, who most of the time just can’t seem to get out of their own way. One of the key aspects of the show, for me, is how they react to being shown their flaws, and how they course-correct once they understand them.

Each character has been shown coming to terms with their shortcomings, accepting them, and then working to overcome them. The fairy tale is that their efforts are always successful, and of course, every storyline resolves and they all live happily ever after.

But, in this case, I think the show stops short of treacle and just has them end up better than they were before.

From the start, this season was about girl power, and isn’t Rebecca Welton the epitome of girl boss? Well, it turns out she isn’t. I related to that moment because I, too, like to think that I do everything I can to hold up other women and cheer them on, but I fall short.

We know that Rebecca has been let down by most of the men in her life, over and over again, and she is at her best when she’s standing on her own two feet, or when she’s arm in arm with Keely.

I could dissect every which way this show made me, as a woman, feel heard.

The iconic “Believe” sign … somehow improved with dozens of small “enhancements.” The working mom dragging her kids to work. Trying to decide between a legitimate career and following my childhood dreams. Having it assumed because I’m a woman, I’m a cat person. Finding every other reason on earth why I can’t stop throwing up other than THAT one. And on and on.

I’ve been there. Sometimes it was a sledgehammer, sometimes it was more subtle, but this show screamed to me that someone else out there gets it. They’re paying attention, and they care. Someone out there is an ally. And, in many ways, they helped portray a lot of the stereotypes that women face as superpowers, rather than flaws.

For me, the defining moment of the entire season was when Rebecca breaks the bad news to Ted. She takes that deep breath, steels herself, and stands tall while Ted visibly crumbles in front of her.

Once again, I’ve been there. Someone’s got to do it. Someone has to break the bad news, and someone has to keep standing. It was a beautifully shot scene, heartbreaking and also powerful. Rebecca had come full circle, literally standing up for the woman who could no longer be there.

Then, I made the mistake of tuning into my other favorite pop culture phenomenon, “Saturday Night Live.” And, make no mistake, I don’t go there looking to have my spirits lifted; I go there for dumb humor, pointed, comedic social commentary and some seriously gifted comic talents.

I’ve sat through some pretty awful hosts and some pretty lame sketches over the years, but Saturday was the first time that I turned it off and didn’t finish it. The jokes in the monologue were just plain not funny to begin with, unless you’re an immature middle schooler who just discovered bad words. Given recent events, they were downright gross.

The cracks and the flaws are evident. They’ve been pointed out, over and over again, with greater clarity. We cannot say that we don’t see them. Now it’s up to us to learn from those mistakes and do better. Become better people who lift those around us up and stand tall when others may falter.

My dad always used to make apologies come with two parts: I understand that what I did was wrong, and I’m going to try not to do it again.

I feel like a lot of people, mainly men, are not understanding what is wrong. There are thousands on the internet who can explain it in much greater nuance. For me, in the most simple terms, if you wouldn’t want it to happen to or to be said to your mother, your wife or your daughter, you shouldn’t want it to happen to any woman. It shouldn’t have to happen to those women for you to care.

Be like Ted and the rest of the gang. Be curious. Learn. Do better. I believe everyone can do that.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News