What’s So Wrong With Having A Thing For A Fictitious Serial Killer?

Hannibal Lecter.

Dexter.

And now Joe Goldberg.

I feel the need to apologize before I even get going, but isn’t that the problem here? Why should I feel like I have to apologize for what I’m about to say? Has the World become such a bizarro version of itself that I can no longer express my deep, passionate love for an attractive guy, who loves to read, who is romantic, sweet, will fight for my honor, and do absolutely whatever it takes to protect me?

What’s so wrong with having a thing for a fictitious serial killer? And why am I being made to feel less than for doing so?

Netflix’s You: Season 2 launched in December, and I wrote about the History of the show and how it had failed on Lifetime, only to have been revived as a huge (supposed) success on the streaming service. I happened to have a little time on my hands over the holidays and so I binged the entire series without even taking the kind of extended bathroom breaks that I took during The Irishman and the kind of “calling my psychologist to explore my childhood trauma” during Marriage Story. No, I powered through You: Season 2 with reckless abandon. I may have even soiled myself while watching it, but I couldn’t know for sure because, well…

Holy shit. Joe Goldberg. He’s like my guy.

So, really, what’s wrong with having a thing for a fictitious character? Apparently, it is OK to have a thing for someone like Harry Potter or Poe or Kylo Ren or Mr. Ford or Mr. Ferrari or even Mr. Rogers. But the minute I tell someone that I can not stop thinking about Joe Goldberg, the dashing, sensitive, well-read serial killer from You: Season 2 — they look at me like I just told them I killed someone myself.

“Yeah, maybe don’t tell too many people about that,” some have said.

Well, I am here to say that it is OK for you to have a thing for Joe Goldberg. Whether you are a woman, or a man, or a them — it’s OK to spend hours scribbling your first name with his last name on a yellow legal pad. It is OK to watch an episode where a woman that Joe clearly would do anything for, ends up in his plexiglass cage (with books and food and a pail to do your business, so it’s not like a prison mind you) and you think to yourself that, heck — maybe that wouldn’t be so bad if it meant I’d get to spend all that time with Joe. It is OK to see other men on the street who resemble Joe Goldberg and to wonder if perhaps they possess some of the positive qualities Joe Goldberg possessed and be intrigued.

There are no pure evil or purely good human beings. Like I said to a certain person who told me to not tell too many people about my thoughts here…us human beings are a complicated species who all have good inside of them. Even if they kill someone to protect someone else they love. Didn’t Cain or Abel or Goliath in the Bible say that? Isn’t that Psalm 3:12 or something? I know there’s something written on the bottom of an In n’ Out shake cup that speaks to that.

But I digress.

We are living in a highly politically-correct world where comedians can no longer say what they think. And if you disagree with that, just wait until Eddie Murphy comes out with his new Netflix comedy special and it makes you long for Raw all over again. We are living in a world where a decades-old tweet can ruin your life for good. We are living in a world where, apparently, having a crush on a fictitious character (who just happens to have done some very nice serial killer-like things for the woman he loves) makes you a flawed individual.

Well, I say bullshit.

I say, have a crush on Hannibal Lecter. Think Dexter is attractive. Daydream about Joe Goldberg. Separate the Zac Efron from the Dahmer and just enjoy what he brings to the table.

Serial killers are people, too. And they need love.

Especially the fictitious ones.

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