Why Do We Keep Rooting for the Villain & What Would Joe Goldberg Work On in Therapy?

Published on April 21, 2025 by Zencare Team. Written by Beth Tutt, MA, LPAT, ATR-BC.

Why Do We Root for People Like Joe Goldberg?

He stalks. He kills. He narrates in poetic metaphors. And somehow, we’re still on his side. Joe Goldberg isn't just a fictional villain. He’s a psychological trap. A mirror held up to our culture’s obsession with redemptive love, tortured men, and control disguised as charm. Our fascination with Joe isn’t about him, it's about us. The trauma stories we carry. The fantasies we cling to. The danger we dress up as devotion.

In this piece, we’ll explore why we keep falling for these dangerous dynamics, how fantasy and unresolved trauma shape attraction, why audiences sympathize with TV show villains, and what Joe Goldberg can teach us about emotional survival and self-protection.

The Allure of the Antihero with Dark Character Appeal

Joe Goldberg isn't traditionally likable — and yet, somehow, we find ourselves empathizing with him. He has this dark character appeal. So how do we still root for the villain, for someone like Joe? He’s articulate, wounded, and introspective. He reads. He reflects. He wants love. And through his carefully curated voiceovers, we’re invited into his distorted but poetic inner world. It feels like access. It feels like truth.

But that intimacy is a performance. Joe isn't being vulnerable, he’s narrating a fantasy where he’s always the misunderstood hero. This is where the psychological sleight of hand begins.

As viewers, we’re not rooting for his violence, we’re rooting for his redemption. We want to believe there’s something salvageable beneath the obsession. Because we can’t be rooting for the villain if there’s something that can be “fixed”, right? That’s part of what makes him so compelling: he taps into the archetype of the “tortured man” we’ve been culturally conditioned to sympathize with. The one who’s almost good. The one we think love might save. It starts being easy to understand why audiences sympathize with TV show villains.

On a trauma level, Joe mimics attunement. He watches, learns, adapts. He mirrors desire without truly connecting. For many, that kind of presence — intense, focused, and consuming  — can feel dangerously close to love. Especially if you’ve grown up in relationships where being seen and being controlled were hard to untangle.

When Danger Feels Familiar: The Psychology of Villains

For many trauma survivors, what feels familiar often overrides what feels safe. If you've grown up in an environment where love was inconsistent, controlling, or conditional, you may have learned to associate intensity with intimacy. Not because it’s healthy, but because it’s what your nervous system recognizes.

Research shows that trauma survivors are significantly more likely to experience repeated trauma throughout their lives. According to the National Child Traumatic Stress Network, over 75% of women in trauma treatment programs have experienced multiple traumatic events. Survivors of childhood abuse, in particular, are 2 to 3 times more likely to encounter interpersonal violence again in adulthood.

Similarly, a comprehensive review by the UK’s Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse (IICSA) found that survivors of childhood sexual abuse are two to four times more likely to experience abuse again later in life.

This isn't because survivors are broken or choosing the wrong people, it's because trauma can shape our perception of safety, trust, and connection. When control or emotional volatility is part of your early relational blueprint, it may feel strangely familiar later in life. Patterns get imprinted on the body and brain, creating a kind of emotional echo that draws us toward what we’ve already survived. But this doesn’t mean we have to be destined for toxic relationships.

So let’s jump into the psychology of villains like Joe. Joe’s hyper-attunement — his ability to watch closely, pick up on desires, and reflect them back — can feel seductive. He creates the illusion of deep connection, of truly “seeing” the object of his obsession. But beneath that attention is control, surveillance, and coercion. It’s not presence, it's possession.

This is what makes Joe so psychologically dangerous. He offers a fantasy of safety through control. In a world that feels unpredictable, he becomes the one who “knows everything” — a protector, a romantic, a constant. For survivors of trauma, that illusion can feel soothing, but it's not love. It's a reenactment.

The more we understand our attraction to these dynamics, the more compassion we can have for ourselves — and the more power we reclaim in choosing something different.

The Seduction of the Fixer Fantasy

Part of Joe Goldberg’s dark character appeal is the sense that there’s something good in him, just buried deep enough that it takes the right person to reach it. That fantasy — that love can rescue, repair, or redeem someone dangerous — is one that many trauma survivors know intimately. If you've learned to equate love with labor, caretaking, or emotional survival, you may feel drawn to people who need saving. Not because you're weak or codependent, but because on some level, you believe that your love might finally make you safe.

Joe fits perfectly into this dynamic many clients bring into therapy. “If I just love them harder…if I can help them heal… maybe it's not as bad as I’m making it out to be… maybe I’m actually the one who's causing problems… maybe I should give them another chance… maybe they'll stop hurting me.”

But here’s the truth: you cannot love someone out of harming you. You cannot fix someone who doesn't take accountability for their harm. Redemption isn't your job — it's theirs.

So why do we love villains? The pull to save someone like Joe isn't a flaw. It's a survival strategy. And when we see it clearly, we can begin to ask a different question — not “how can I fix this…how do I help them become safe?” but “What would it feel like to be loved without having to do the work of saving someone?”

If Joe were in therapy, the work wouldn’t be about romantic redemption — it would be about accountability and confronting the roots of his coercive behavior. A trauma-informed therapist might help him explore:

Therapy for toxic behavior doesn’t mean excusing harm or justifying it because someone experienced trauma in their childhood — it means untangling the beliefs that justify the harm they cause. And Joe’s narrative, if it ever became honest, would need to include those hard truths.

What Joe Teaches Us About Why We Root for the Villain

Joe Goldberg might be fiction, and it's not like we’re all dating serial killers — but our attraction to him is real. And it says something worth listening to.

We don't root for the villain, Joe, because we endorse his behavior. We root for him because he reflects something familiar: the longing to be seen, the desire to be chosen, the fantasy that someone could love us so deeply they’d do anything to keep us. Even if it’s dangerous. Even if it costs us our freedom.

That's the trap: we mistake obsession for devotion, intensity for intimacy, control for care. Joe’s story pulls us in because it mirrors the emotional dynamics many of us have lived through — especially those shaped by trauma.

But recognizing this doesn't mean we've failed. It means we’re becoming conscious of the patterns that once shaped our survival. It means we can begin to rewrite the story — not by judging ourselves, but by getting curious:

Joe's danger lies in how much he wants to possess — but our healing lies in how much we’re learning to choose presence, peace, safety, and self-trust instead.

What to Watch for in Real Life

Joe Goldberg may be fictional — and most unhealthy dynamics don't include one partner being a serial killer — but the emotional patterns he represents are very real, and they show up more often than we think. Many of us have encountered relationships that felt intense, romantic, or all-consuming at first — only to realize later that something was off.

Here are a few signs to pay attention to:

These dynamics can be subtle, quiet and hard to name, especially if they echo early relational trauma. But naming them is the first step toward reclaiming your own emotional safety.

Closing Reflections: From Awareness to Healing

If you've ever found yourself drawn to someone who felt intense, consuming, or dangerously familiar, you're not alone. Attraction isn't always about safety, it's often shaped by what our nervous system has survived before.

Recognizing these patterns isn't about judgment. It's about gently reclaiming your power to name what once went unnamed, and choose differently. Healing starts with curiosity.

These insights may stir something deep: questions, grief, longing, clarity. If they do, let them move. You might bring them into your therapy work. You might write. You might create. You don't have to make meaning all at once, just begin by being with whatever emerges.

Reflection Invitations and Symbolic Practice

Use these as journal prompts, therapy questions, or entry points into a stream-of-consciousness or symbolic art practice. No need to edit. Let them come through.

Thread and Release:

Take a small piece of thread, string, or ribbon. Hold it in your hand as you reflect on a pattern you're ready to release — a belief, a dynamic, a version of yourself that no longer feels true.

You might write about it. Or simply breathe with it. Maybe even write something on the ribbon that you want to release. Then, when you're ready, bury it, or release it in water.

You don't have to fix it. You can honor it, and let it go for now. Let the act be a release, and acknowledgment of your clarity, a quiet promise to choose something new.

If You Recognize Yourself in This Story

If anything in this piece feels uncomfortably familiar, whether you’re currently in a relationship that feels confusing or have been in one in the past, please know that you’re not alone, and there’s help available.

Here are a few confidential resources you can turn to:

The National Domestic Violence Hotline

Love Is Respect (for teens and young adults)

Therapy Resources

About the Author
Beth Tutt, LPAT, ATR-BC, is a trauma informed art therapist and artist whose work explores the quiet spaces between survival and self-trust. She believes healing happens in the moments we stop performing and start listening inward. In her private practice. Beth helps people navigate trauma, grief, and identity transformation- with creativity, gentleness, and depth.
To learn more and connect with Beth, visit her Zencare profile or visit Aligned Art Therapy.