Another thing I keep learning: things can always get worse.

The scariest part of being a writer for me is romanticizing the wrong ideals. A drug-addicted protagonist who has a tendency to disappear for days on end, worrying his family and friends, is not someone we would want to be with in real life. Loki Laufeyson from the Marvel Cinematic Universe has a huge fan following—so much so the character got his own TV series, Loki—but an aspiring dictator/sociopath isn’t an ideal marriage candidate. We know that. Right?

When I started writing my first (attempt) at a novel, I was heavily inspired by characters like Draco Malfoy from Harry Potter, Dean Winchester from Supernatural, and most problematic of all, Gregory House of House.

These characters may not be villains through and through, but they are not the best role models.

Gregory House (though a genius) is a sexist doctor who has even harassed his female colleagues. Still, there’s something about him that makes people love the show and the character. What sets House aside is his care for his patients. He doesn’t make irrational decisions when treating people, and he always does the best he can to help them.

In the episode “One Day, One Room,” House’s patient is Eve, a girl seeking treatment for chlamydia after surviving rape. He feels that Eve wouldn’t want a male doctor, but Eve says she wants House to continue treating her.

House returns to her room. He asks, “Why did you choose me?”

“There’s something about you,” she says. “It’s like you’re hurt too.”

House’s character is compelling because of his relatable human attributes: he makes mistakes (a lot of them), but he always gets back up again.

So when writing my own protagonist, I battled between my personal attractions to unhealthy character types and my desire to create a story that readers can learn from. When one of my protagonists, Evan Burke, became an alcoholic to cope with his father’s disappearance, it was meant to create a sympathetic character. It also gave him potential for character development later on.

But his addiction became the center of his character, and his motivations for changing his unhealthy habits were pushed to the side for the rest of the plot to move forward. I also wanted him to be stronger than his loss. In other words, it wasn’t doing anything for the story but making it less interesting to read—and to write.

Writing an antagonist is a different can of worms, but for the same reasons. Villains have to be loveable, but grounded in their vanity and evil doings. In my opinion, readers must know when something is wrong and shouldn’t be repeated. Just like in real life, if a villain recovers from being evil, they have to feel consequences for their actions in order to be fully redeemed.

Let’s talk about Dexter Morgan in the hit series Dexter. The show centers around his hunt for murderers and other despicable people in the name of the law. He’s sort of a Punisher-type character, instilling fear and justice through violence. Even with good intentions, this doesn’t make Dexter good.

Finding the balance between intrigue and progress is key in writing a good story with a complimentary villain. Characters who struggle to conquer are relatable and automatically win the hearts of readers and viewers.

The last thing we want as writers is for people to take these stories too seriously.

And yet, true crime stories dominate popular media. It’s the most common category among popular podcasts with nearly a quarter of all top-ranked American podcasts falling into the true crime genre.

Women are twice as likely to become enthralled with true crime stories than men, and over 75 percent of CrimeCon attendees are women. This is likely due to women displaying higher empathy. Learning about other people’s tragedies helps us understand each other.

According to Dr. Amanda Vicary at Illinois Wesleyan University, part of the reason so many women enjoy true crime content is because it can teach them how to avoid dangerous situations—women want to feel safe.

Similarly, watching You teaches us the potential signs of a serial killer, and better yet, their motivations. When we understand why something is, it’s not so scary anymore.

Joe Goldberg has both the means of keeping his woman-in-mind safe and in danger due to his explosivity. The tension derived from this danger is exciting.

But there’s a difference between feeling the excitement of fear (without the actual threat) and being afraid.

There are many real-life scenarios where people (women especially) fall in love, or become obsessed, with criminals. This phenomenon is called “Hybristophilia.” 

Ted Bundy was known as the sexiest serial killer of the ’70s (this shouldn’t even be a category of consideration). He had hundreds of women attending his court dates and even got married during his murder trial. Similarly, serial killer Richard Ramirez was married in the late ’90s to a devout fan convinced of his innocence. Doreen Lioy wrote love letters to Ramirez in prison for 11 years, even when he admitted he was a devout Satanist.

Jeffrey Dahmer’s fanbase may be the strangest of all. Most recognized for targeting gay men and boys of colour, the serial killer of 17 people reportedly received hundreds of love letters while in prison, all sent by women.

What about the victims’ families—how do they feel about Netflix making money off their misery? When does our love of true crime go too far?

When Evan Peters won a Golden Globe for his performance in Dahmer – Monster, the mother of one of Dahmer’s victims, Shirley Hughes, spoke out about being depicted in the show without permission. “It’s a shame that people can take our tragedy and make money,” Hughes told TMZ.

Hughes wasn’t the only one.

Rita Isbell is the younger sister to victim Eroll Lindsey. The victim impact statement she gave in 1992 was wildly exaggerated for the TV show. ​​“Her hair was like mine, she had on the same clothes,” Isbell told Kelsey Vlamis of Business Insider. “That’s why it felt like reliving it all over again.”

Lindsey’s daughter, Tatianna Banks, was reportedly unable to sleep after the 2022 show opened up old wounds. “I see Jeffrey Dahmer in my sleep,” she told Insider.

To make matters worse, Netflix had used the LGBTQ tag on Dahmer – Monster. The use of the tag implied that Dahmer was a homosexual to be sympathized with by the LGBTQ+ community. The tag has since been removed.

Knowing the harm it causes to their victims and ourselves, why are we still obsessed with telling the bad guy’s story? And why do we fall in love with him along the way? Forensic psychologist Dr. Sohom Das has discovered one of the many truths of this phenomenon, providing some answers to many peoples’ questions.

One explanation is that some of these women try to involve themselves with serial killers because of a “saviour complex”—a desire to fix the accused men. An opposing theory is the idealization of a relationship. If your husband is in prison, you don’t have to deal with the day-to-day problems, and the relationship is virtually perfect.

What is more than likely, however, is the effect of personal trauma. People who have experienced abusive relationships with their parents or otherwise tend to repeat this cycle. The cycle of abuse is familiar to them. If a person learns that abuse is normal, they’ll continue to seek it, intentionally or unintentionally.

Furthermore, when people experience abuse, they lack control over their lives. As a result, they yearn for it. In adulthood, they may actively seek things (or people) to control.

And even though these women’s imprisoned lovers are violent, it gives the women an opportunity to “actually control and dominate the relationship, maybe for the first time ever,” Dr. Das explains.

(More spoilers) In the first season of You, we learn that Guinevere Beck had been subjected to abuse as a child. She then developed a complex that made her feel like she wasn’t deserving of a healthy relationship, so she put herself in an unhealthy one.

Self-sabotage as a form of control. If I screw up my life, I can engineer my own death rather than have it happen to me.

Although Beck wasn’t aware of Joe’s stalking or his cryptic past until the end, he was obsessed with her, which was an excuse to choose him.

“If I stay in a doomed relationship … I can create a living death—but one where I call the shots,” writes Gottlieb.

I love true crime and thrillers because of what we can learn from them: the human experience. It gives us a broader perspective on other peoples’ lives, but it also makes us feel less alone when dealing with the rough spots in our own.

Maybe one of the most enticing things about loving a villain is the confirmation that they are, in fact, loveable. That, even after the horrible things they have done, they can still be loved by us. Why does that matter? Because maybe our obsession with fictional thrillers and true crime comes from a deep, hidden fear that we are all a little bit of a monster. And in watching these shows, we hope that, just maybe, someone will look at our faults and still love us, too. 

But as much as we all love to indulge in this, just remember that serial killers are probably not the best people to look to for relationship advice. After all, it’s not always the villains who get the glory (and the girl). 

Sometimes it’s the heroes who come out on top.