8 min read
8 min read

Joe Goldberg, the obsessive protagonist of You, defies traditional romance. His relationships are marked by manipulation, violence, and delusion. Despite finding Love Quinn, a woman as dangerously devoted as he is, their marriage crumbles under mutual distrust.
The show subverts the “happily ever after” trope, proving Joe’s love is conditional. His cycle of obsession repeats, leaving destruction in its wake. Love’s murderous tendencies mirror his own, yet he rejects her, revealing his hypocrisy.
Their toxic dynamic exposes Joe’s inability to truly connect, reinforcing the series’ theme: love, for him, is about control, not partnership.

Love Quinn, introduced in Season 2, initially seems perfect for Joe; she’s as cunning and murderous as he is. However, their relationship unravels when Joe realizes her violence stems from passion, not his self-justified “noble” motives.
Love’s unpredictability terrifies him, exposing his double standards. Her murder of Natalie in Season 3 shatters their suburban façade, proving their marriage was doomed. Unlike Joe, Love kills impulsively, making her more dangerous in his eyes.
Their dynamic highlights the show’s exploration of toxic love, where two broken people amplify each other’s worst traits instead of healing.

Season 3 relocates Joe and Love to Madre Linda, a seemingly idyllic suburb. Beneath the manicured lawns and friendly neighbors lies hypocrisy, infidelity, and hidden violence.
The setting contrasts sharply with their dark deeds, emphasizing how easily evil blends into normalcy. Natalie’s murder disrupts the illusion, exposing the couple’s instability.
The suburb becomes a prison for Joe, who resents domestic life but can’t escape. Madre Linda symbolizes the futility of their attempt at normalcy; their crimes fester under the surface, proving that no environment can contain their destructive natures.

Natalie, Joe’s new neighbor, becomes his fleeting obsession in Season 3. Unlike past targets, she’s killed almost immediately, not by Joe, but by Love. This abrupt end subverts expectations, denying Joe his usual stalking routine.
Natalie’s death underscores Love’s volatility and Joe’s waning control. Her role, though brief, catalyzes the couple’s downfall, exposing their fractured trust. The swift disposal of Natalie reflects the show’s willingness to disrupt its own patterns, keeping viewers on edge.
Her murder proves that Love is the dominant force in their relationship, not Joe.

Joe rationalizes his murders as “necessary,” but Love’s violence disgusts him. This hypocrisy reveals his self-delusion; he sees himself as a protector, not a predator. Love mirrors his actions, forcing him to confront his monstrosity.
Their clashes highlight Joe’s inability to accept equal darkness in a partner. He craves control, not companionship, and Love’s autonomy threatens him. The show critiques toxic masculinity through Joe’s double standards, showing how he vilifies in others what he excuses in himself.
His rejection of Love isn’t moral; it’s narcissistic.

You repeatedly tease, then destroy, the possibility of a happy ending for Joe. Season 2’s finale suggests he and Love might thrive as a murderous duo, but Season 3 dismantles this fantasy. Their marriage is a battleground, not a sanctuary.
The show’s message is clear: Joe’s pathology prevents lasting happiness. Even with a child, he can’t change. The suburban dream curdles into horror, proving that no relationship can redeem him.
You denies viewers the satisfaction of closure, reinforcing its bleak thesis: obsession consumes everything, leaving no room for love.

Love’s murder of Natalie is impulsive, a stark contrast to Joe’s calculated kills. Her jealousy stems from insecurity, unlike Joe, she fears abandonment. This moment proves Love is more emotionally driven, making her unpredictable.
Natalie’s death shatters the fragile peace between the couple, accelerating their spiral. Love’s actions here mirror Joe’s past crimes, but without his self-justification. The murder exposes her raw desperation, highlighting the differences in their violence.
For Love, killing is personal; for Joe, it’s “logical.” This distinction ultimately dooms their relationship.

Joe and Love’s son, Henry, is collateral damage in their warped relationship. Both claim to love him, yet prioritize their own needs. Their parenting is a performance, masking their dysfunction. Joe’s final act, abandoning Henry to protect him from himself, is his only selfless deed.
The show questions whether monsters can truly care for others. Henry’s fate underscores the cycle of trauma: Joe, a product of abuse, repeats history. His departure suggests Henry might escape or inherit his parents’ darkness.

Joe’s recurring cage motif symbolizes his self-imposed isolation. He traps others but is equally trapped, by his obsessions, guilt, and inability to change. Season 3’s suburban setting becomes another cage, suffocating him.
Love’s presence amplifies his claustrophobia; she mirrors his worst traits, denying him an escape. The cage represents his cyclical nature, he always returns to stalking, violence, and self-deception. Even when free physically, Joe remains psychologically imprisoned.
The show suggests he’ll never break free, as his pathology is his identity.

You blurs lines between protagonist and antagonist. Joe narrates his story, manipulating viewer sympathy, but his actions are indefensible. Love, though equally violent, is framed as more “monstrous,” exposing gendered biases.
The show challenges audiences to question why they root for Joe despite his crimes. By contrasting his self-justifications with Love’s emotional honesty, it critiques societal tolerance for male violence.
Neither character is redeemable, but their portrayals reveal uncomfortable truths about how we perceive villains, especially when they’re charming, white, and male.

Joe’s pattern, obsession, possession, and violence repeat relentlessly. Each season introduces a new victim, reinforcing his inability to change. His flight at the end of Season 3 sets up another cycle, proving he’ll never stop.
The show’s structure mirrors his compulsions, with each arc ending in bloodshed. This inevitability is central to You’s horror: Joe isn’t a redeemable antihero but a predator trapped in his own narrative.

Love’s attempted murder of Joe in the Season 3 finale is her ultimate act of desperation. She won’t let him abandon her, even if it means killing him. This mirrors Joe’s past killings, but with twisted irony, he’s now the target.
Her failure to kill him underscores his plot armor, but her death is inevitable. Love’s demise is tragic; she loved Joe unconditionally, but he could never reciprocate. Her end cements her as one of the series’ most tragic figures, a woman whose love was as deadly as her rage.

Madre Linda’s pristine exterior hides rot, much like Joe and Love’s marriage. Their attempts to blend in fail as their crimes pile up. The neighbors’ gossip and affairs mirror the couple’s deception, suggesting corruption is universal.
The suburb’s veneer cracks under scrutiny, paralleling Joe’s crumbling lies. By the season’s end, the facade collapses entirely, leaving only chaos. The show argues that darkness lurks beneath all surfaces, even the most “perfect” lives are performative.
No environment can sanitize Joe or Love; their true natures always emerge.

Joe’s departure in Season 3 feels like a fresh start, but viewers know better. He changes his name, moves cities, yet remains the same predator. His escape is physical, not psychological. The final scene, spotting Marienne, teases another cycle of obsession.
Joe can’t outrun himself; his pathology follows everywhere. The show mocks the idea of redemption, he’s not seeking change, just a new victim. His flight underscores the series’ central irony: Joe is both hunter and hunted, forever trapped by his nature.

Joe and Love’s actions leave lasting damage, Henry is orphaned, Natalie’s family grieves, and Madre Linda is scarred. Yet Joe faces no real consequences, a glaring reminder of how privilege and charm shield predators.
The show’s razor-sharp critique of societal failures hits even harder now that You Season 5 is finally here, premiering on April 24, 2025.
You force audiences to confront an unsettling reality: monsters like Joe walk among us. His charm makes him relatable, even sympathetic, exposing how easily evil disguises itself. The show refuses to sanitize his actions or offer easy justice, much like 9-1-1, which just scored a Season 9 renewal after its gut-punch loss of Bobby Nash 49.
Instead, it holds a mirror to society’s complicity. Why do we romanticize male violence? By denying catharsis, You leave viewers uneasy, questioning their own biases. What do you think, will justice ever catch up to Joe, or is the system just as broken as he is? Drop your theories below!
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This slideshow was made with AI assistance and human editing.
Lover of hiking, biking, horror movies, cats and camping. Writer at Wide Open Country, Holler and Nashville Gab.
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