You: Farewell to Romantic Love

From Acapulco, Gro, México to the entire world:

We grew up in a society that raised us on the idealization of romantic love, teaching us that a partner’s love is the ‘vital’ goal we must chase. In short, to fit societal standards and feel ‘complete,’ our priority is to find our other half in this bittersweet juice called life. But in that pursuit, is anything fair game? Or, as the Bible says, “Love endures all things”—does that resonate? The raw answer came with the fifth and final season of You on Thursday, April 24. The Netflix series that made audiences empathize with a serial killer (talk about a slap in the face ). - ARAL ❤️‍🔥 

Series: You | Year: 2025 | Genre: Thriller/Drama | Seasons: 5 | Episodes: 50 | Created by: Greg Berlanti and Sera Gamble | Country: USA / NETFLIX

Can We Empathize with a Serial Killer?

It was captivating to delve into Joe Goldberg’s psyche and process over 50 episodes, hearing his unfiltered thoughts. Joe is an intelligent, ‘human,’ and charismatic man who kills in the name of love, wielding an intellect that persuades the audience to find rationality in his actions (sadly, many even root for him).

I don’t like giving too many spoilers or recounting every detail, as I believe it robs you of the chance to interpret the story for yourselves. However, this article is dedicated to highlighting the key moments of the series to critique the harm caused by romanticized love.

When Beck’s character appeared, I felt an immediate connection with her (still do, to this day), perhaps because she’s a writer with a unique naturalness and sensitivity, or maybe because Elizabeth Lail is a phenomenal actress—I’m not sure. The point is, I thought to myself: “If this woman is his first victim, she’ll be the one to drive Joe’s downfall.” I swear I imagined this without knowing it would come true. Then, just days ago (Thursday), when the series ended, it happened (my mind is still reeling. I should’ve been a screenwriter ).

Watching Joe in action, dissecting people’s psychology through their body language, personal histories, and social media, is a brilliantly executed performance. These sequences make the series irresistibly addictive. As humans, we crave the truth and can’t stand being deceived. Even if others manage to fool us, consciously or not, we seek tools to understand how to handle them. You teaches us two key lessons: first, we must be certain of someone’s intentions before getting close, and second, the vast amount of public information online makes us vulnerable to anyone—some far worse than Joe—lurking out there.

Joe is a multifaceted character, far from a mere murderer or sociopath. Describing him is complex due to the intricate, elusive traits that define him. From a psychological perspective, Joe is a mosaic of personality disorders, unresolved traumas, and defense mechanisms, making him a singular case. He has internalized romantic love as a pure ideal to be protected at all costs. In his mind, he must be a hero to prove his worth, a knight shielding love from anything—or anyone—who defies his expectations, even his own partner. For Joe, romantic love demands absolute devotion, embracing the other’s motivations and demons to forge a genuine, organic connection. This warped belief allows him to justify his crimes and evade guilt. Raised, like many, with the misguided notion that in love and war, the end justifies the means, his childhood act of killing his stepfather to save his mother—only for her to abandon him—cemented this mindset.

As the series progresses, we see Joe relishes killing: it liberates him and brings pleasure, though he knows it’s wrong. He tries to resist by writing his violent fantasies on paper, but his nature prevails. I’d venture to say that while being loved is his ultimate goal, the slightest hint of rejection from the woman he loves unleashes a calculated impulse to kill her. Joe is an enigmatic figure because he doesn’t act impulsively; he controls his emotions, but only to delay them while meticulously planning to evade the police, never to stop them. The series doesn’t glorify crime—it interrogates it, exposing the consequences that arise.

For Joe, a person cannot be whole without their beloved, locked in a perpetual conquest. In this emotional frenzy, he craves being desired, cherished, idolized, and the center of the universe. The thrill of the chase captivates him. When the spark fades, his partner’s focus wanes, making it easy for him to shift to a new prospect at the faintest, most fleeting sign of attention.

As I mentioned earlier, I was stunned when the series ended, and I didn’t see it coming. Bronte’s character is even more intricate than Joe’s, layered with countless nuances that make her sharper than him. It’s impossible to predict her next move, as she herself says: “Joe’s love erases your identity, overpowering even justice.” When I heard that line, I paused to reflect, and it’s true—finding a balance between the brain’s chemistry and our values is incredibly challenging. We’re bombarded by a societal structure (films, media, culture) that has fed us a flawed notion of romantic love: that it endures all, bears all, must be unconditional, ideally pure, strictly monogamous, and, like in fairy tales, eternal. This social construct is so ingrained that we often normalize it, just as we do violence. Women, in particular, struggle to discern the line between love and harm, as we’re culturally cast as the emotional ones, tasked with being “preoccupied” with love. 

The harsh truth is that romantic love can be a mechanism of control over us. In patriarchal logic and gendered socialization, men are deemed “rational,” entitled to receive love, while women are expected to give it limitlessly, without question.

Returning to the series, Bronte begins as a noble woman in the process of deconstructing herself. Paradoxically, she initially accepts Joe’s nature, believing he killed because he “had to.” But another woman, a former victim of Joe’s, lifts the veil from her eyes and soul, restoring her trust in her instincts and ideals. This leads Bronte to uncover Joe’s guilt in the murder of her friend Beck—his first killing.

I loved that Bronte recovered and published Beck’s book in its original form, erasing Joe’s edits—a powerful act of sisterhood toward her.

If You Support Joe: “The Problem is You”

Joe naturalized, normalized, and rationalized a violent expression of love, intertwining violence with affection and protection in his psyche.
I urge you to reflect on the following behaviors, and I’m sorry to say, if you engage in any of these, “The problem isn’t Joe—it’s you”:

STALKING AND SURVEILLANCE

Joe invades his partners’ privacy by tracking their movements, hacking their devices, reading their messages or emails, planting GPS devices, and infiltrating their social circles. He sees this as “getting to know” or “protecting” them, but it’s a violation of their autonomy.

ELIMINATING OBSTACLES

Joe kills those he perceives as threats to his relationships, whether he deems them harmful to his partner or obstacles to his idealized romantic vision. To him, these murders prove his commitment and sacrifice. Joe plays God, even if he doesn’t admit it.

CONTROL AND MANIPULATION

Joe orchestrates situations to keep his partners close, isolating them from friends, family, and support networks or fostering codependency. He manipulates their world so they rely solely on him, presenting himself as their “savior.” 

DIRECT VIOLENCE

When his partners reject or challenge him, Joe resorts to physical violence without remorse. He maintains a carefully crafted public image as the intellectual librarian or professor, terrified of being exposed or labeled a psychopath.

THE FINALE

Joe Calls His Supporters “Crazy”

 (Reflecting in Prison)

In the final scene, enveloped in the stark solitude he always fled, Joe reads a letter from a fan of his crimes that says: “I believe you. Let you do anything, punish me, control me and fuck me in your cage.” Breaking the fourth wall, Joe delivers his closing line: “Maybe we have a problem as a society. Maybe we need to fix what broke us. Maybe the problem isn’t me—maybe it’s you.”

CONCLUSION

Romantic love, as constructed, is inherently violent and invasive, essentially treating us as the other’s property. We urgently need to forge healthy relationships grounded in consent, emotional responsibility, respect, trust, reciprocity, and, above all, freedom. Let’s remember we are already whole—we don’t need a partner to feel alive. Healthy love is a conscious choice, not the cornerstone of our existence. If you’re going to center your reason for being on love, let it be self-love.

I leave you with the cover of Creep, originally by Radiohead, which fittingly closes the fifth season in 2025. Why not reread this while playing it? It elevates the experience

[If you enjoyed it, I made you think, sparked a conversation, or want me to keep writing, give me a like, hit the light, and let me know what you think!]

By: Alma Raquel Alonso Lucena
Engineer, Podcaster, and Film Lover

Instagram: Almiux_Alonso
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