Would You Date Joe Goldberg? It's Complicated

I think, for me, the answer depends on which version of Joe we’re talking about—and whether I knew about his crimes before dating him. Most of the doe-eyed women in You are oblivious to his violent, stalker tendencies. Once they find out, they (understandably) flee. And to Joe, that’s the ultimate betrayal. Thus begins the pity cycle of "my ex was murdered," and boom—you’ve got yourself a five-season Netflix show.

Now that You Season 5 is over—and I’m assuming that means the show is finally done—I have to say, this is one of those series that should’ve bowed out gracefully years ago. Honestly, it should’ve wrapped with Season 3, when Love died in that explosive domestic murder-suicide that somehow still felt like a rom-com gone very wrong. But Netflix, in its infinite wisdom, assumed people still cared, so we got Season 4: Joe in London, pretending to be Mr. Sherlock Holmes. And then Season 5: Joe in therapy, with a beard, pretending to be a changed man. Spoiler alert: he is not.

In these last two seasons, Joe became much more off-the-rails and unattractive—not in a fun, chaotic evil way, but in a plot-armoured, character-breaking way. In the beginning, Joe was terrifyingly compelling. He had that morally gray Dexter 2.0 energy: well-read, soft-spoken, kind to children with troubled home lives, and heartbreakingly sweet to the women he planned to obsess over and eventually destroy. He was like the ultimate “misunderstood bookworm” fanfic trope... except, you know, with an underground glass murder cage.

Sure, he vindictively murdered anyone who got too close to his obsession and isolated them until they had no one but him—but wasn’t that kind of romantic? You’d find fanfic about that. The hot guy in a bookstore who’s secretly fighting crime and protecting you always, even if it’s a little… murder-y? I know that sounds absolutely unhinged now, but the show itself packaged it with such a glossy, almost seductive aesthetic. I think it was deliberate—a warning sign, not an endorsement. You never tried to convince us that Joe was a good person. It just showed us how easy it is to fall for someone like him before you see the full picture.

And I’ll admit: I wanted to fix him. I thought Joe just kept falling for the wrong women, that if he met someone suitable (like me, lol), things would be different. Not that the women he dated deserved what they got—of course not—but I thought maybe he needed a girl who’d talk it out with him. Help him unpack his trauma. Maybe he’d stop stabbing people then. Each season showed us this wasn’t the case. Even more horrifying: if I were charmed by his deceptions, I might even help him get away with his crimes, as many of his love interests do.

Joe's charisma, exceptional denial, and overall composed demeanour allow women like me and you to inevitably find attraction in his chaotic ways when it does surface. Almost as if only we were worthy of witnessing this part of him. Joe's confessions, his real persona—it was like a treat you got if you endured his love bombing. And if you survived, then you were the one. This was most prominent in Love Quinn, who was the next best solution, but we all know what happened there. Joe got scared of looking in the mirror and destroyed it. That’s when I realized Joe couldn’t be fixed the way I wanted.

Another reason my delusion vanished was after I saw videos of what it would be like to interact with Joe without his inner monologue narration—and my God, it’s creepy. He just stares. He’s always silent, calculating, and analyzing everything you say with this serial killer glaze in his eyes. Suddenly, the “charming book guy” becomes the “guy who definitely has a basement full of teeth” guy. The illusion shattered, and I started watching You with a different lens. I no longer wanted Joe to get the girl—I wanted him to get caught. By Season 4, Joe didn’t even feel like the same character. The show gave us a version of him who, apparently, spent three years being normal. No murders. No stalking. Just vibes and beard oil. Which is not only inconsistent, but I find it to be disrespectful in a way. I’ll explain.

The reason Season 1–3 Joe was so alluring to me is because of the general campiness of the show itself. Yes, it was about murder, and psychopaths, and the dangers of nice guys, but behind the Criminal Minds-based synopsis, the dark humour and overall silliness of You was ever-present. All the ridiculousness of the side characters kept me siding with Joe most of the time. He seemed the most compassionate and rational—that is, when he wasn’t killing someone. The show capitalized on its absurd ridiculousness to murder mysteries as a whole, and I was eating it up. Season 4, for some reason, went back to trying to make the show serious. As if murder was a really consequential issue? No. I mean yes—but You never wanted its audience to take it all that seriously, which I liked. It was different, and it let me warm up to someone as insane as Joe.

When Season 4 introduced real-world stakes, I tuned out. Joe became a real figure to me, and I disliked him in every episode. Then in Season 5, in a ploy to change, he abandons his killing prowess and stays settled into his married life with Kat—or Kate? I don’t know, I never cared about her. This is fine, but he soon realizes killing is who he is, and he has to go back to the Season 1 Joe we all loved so much. But he just can’t do that. Or maybe he just won’t. Too much has changed. This isn’t the Joe we knew before.

Despite the urges to continue killing, his wit, intuition, and smarts are gone. He doesn’t obsess, he doesn’t love-bomb, he doesn’t go on a stalking splurge investigating the other side characters who are suspicious of him. He doesn’t even pull his classic cap-and-stalk move to watch Brontë and see what she was really up to. Sure, it was creepy, but it was smart and calculated—and what kept him under wraps for so long. Is this the Joe so many women fell for? I had to rewatch Season 1 to remind myself.

If I ran into Season 1 Joe at a bookstore, I’d probably flirt with him a little. He’d seem mysterious, emotionally intelligent, and probably really into Sylvia Plath. It peak my curiisty and I'd be blinded by the fake compliments he'd give me for my crappy book taste.

Season 5, Joe? I’d walk right past him, maybe point out a dusty spot on the bookshelf, and keep it moving. He looks like someone who aggressively recommends Nietzsche in a way that makes you feel bad about drinking iced coffee.

I started to wonder if the same things I disliked/liked about Joe were universal. So I asked a few reasonable women what they thought, and the responses were... surprising.

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“Yeah, he’s hot and he reads books.” – Anonymous

“I would date him 100%! He’s adorable, until he’s not. Especially with that beard.” – Anonymous 2

“I thought he was just an emaciated Henry Cavill.” – Anonymous 3

I couldn’t include Anonymous 4 for... disturbing reasons

“We all know Joe’s a bad guy on paper, but there’s something about his desire to love and be loved that people relate to. Who rejects unconditional love?” – Anonymous 5

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It sounds a little poetic, almost rational at first—until you realize “unconditional love” just means masturbating in your car while watching your crush undress. Reading books—especially the ones where bad people get justice for following their twisted morals—and the beard? Yeah, that’s just wrong.

These reactions surprised me. I thought Joe, if not an obvious red flag over the course of the series, was at least a cautionary tale, not a dating goal. But the overwhelming number of women who said they would date Joe because he’s “nice,” “quirky,” “funny,” or “devoted” left me a little shook.

From what I’ve gathered, most of that interest only exists because Joe looks like Penn Badgley. If he had the same behaviour but wasn’t attractive? People would be calling the cops after date one. There’s something mildly anti-feminist and definitely depressing about finding obsessive, stalker behaviour hot just because the guy is good-looking and reads books. But hey, to each their own. Still, it makes sense when you look at the pattern. The women Joe can’t charm—the ones who instantly sense something’s off—are usually the most rational, grounded people in the show. Joe doesn’t go after them. He picks “projects.” He targets women with baggage, insecurities, or unstable support systems—because they’re easier to isolate and manipulate.

Interestingly, Brontë this season knew who Joe was, his crimes, and his victims, and her ploy to destroy him tragically turned into her infatuation with him. It’s almost as if Joe’s hidden toxicity, disguised as a nice guy, is what drives people toward him.

So what does it say about you if you do want to date Joe? Maybe nothing. Maybe it’s just a fun, fictional fantasy. Or maybe it means you, too, are hoping that a handsome, broken man will show up and “fix” you while quietly dismantling your entire life from the inside out. (No judgment. Just maybe don’t manifest that energy.)

So, would I date Joe Goldberg? No. Absolutely not. And if the answer is yes, then actually, no. Not unless I can afford extensive therapy, which I cannot. For now, Joe can rot in his jail cell, blaming society for his trauma while the rest of us wait for the next morally questionable, emotionally damaged, literature-loving man to sweep us off our feet.