We should be afraid of them, or at least turned off by them, and yet we are often (also) attracted to them. It is a joke and an indulgence at times, but also a reality: our culture and many individuals love the idea of the rogue, the bad boy. Fear doesn’t deter attraction at all; sometimes, instead, it inflames it. 

We want what is bad for us, sometimes – in a fervored, masochistic, romantic obsession. But why are people so compelled by masochistic, self-sabotaging desire, or at least stories of it? Why do we desire what is so bad for us, and why does a haze of nostalgia follow individuals who are so destructive? 

In my own life, I have always been attracted to the bad boys, often apparently unaware that they could be genuinely dangerous (rather than just exciting or charming) until many months into a relationship, seemingly unable to see the red flags others may have seen clearly. 

Even when I was aware of the red flags, I wanted to stay, because I loved them, and could not imagine life without them. I would know that everything was wrong and demeaned – I knew about all the lies and manipulation and undermining, the lack of care – and yet I did not want to let go, and so for as long as I could, I did not let go. I always held out that perhaps they could change, get better, and perhaps I could help them.