It seems we have a collective blind spot when it comes to fictional men. My own journey into this questionable territory began, perhaps predictably, on Wattpad, and it wasn’t exactly a wholesome experience.
We’re talking about the peak Wattpad era, a time when many of us were secretly devouring steamy stories under the covers, treating it like some sort of clandestine ritual. I was around 13, telling myself, “Just 15 minutes” each night. Unsurprisingly, those 15 minutes would stretch into three hours, leaving me with a dead phone and an emotional entanglement with characters who boasted more red flags than a marching band parade.
Before you cast judgment – don’t worry, I’ve already done that, and quite extensively, I might add – it’s worth acknowledging that this platform introduced an entire generation to plotlines we hadn’t yet learned to identify. Think “enemies to lovers,” the “bad boy with a hidden soft side,” or the “emotionally unavailable man who wreaks havoc on your life, yet you inexplicably root for him.” Wattpad served them all up, often simultaneously, and that’s likely where the obsession truly took hold.
It was after this phase that a significant realisation dawned: these “toxic” fictional men weren’t confined to Wattpad; they were seemingly everywhere. Suddenly, I started spotting them in films, armed with the vocabulary to articulate what felt “off.” I could finally name the trope instead of just having a vague sense of unease. My earliest conscious recognition of this on screen was The Wolf of Wall Street. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
This isn’t to say these narrative patterns suddenly materialised at that point. Looking back at older films, it’s clear this was always present. I simply lacked the words, and perhaps the self-awareness, to call it out at the time. Leonardo DiCaprio delivered a stellar performance as Jordan Belfort, no doubt, but the character himself? Sheesh, I have opinions. He’s charming, slick, and possesses an uncanny ability to talk his way into – and out of – any situation. You can almost understand the allure… almost. But cheating on both his wives? Mate, at that point, it’s not a red flag; it’s a full-blown red carpet.
To delve into why we’re so captivated by these toxic fictional characters, it’s crucial to consider the psychology at play. A study titled “The Attraction of Evil” by Holger Schramm and Annika Sartorius offers some compelling insights into our enduring fascination with these walking red flags.
The Psychology Behind the Attraction
The study suggests that engaging with a “bad boy,” even a fictional one, can provide a boost to one’s self-esteem. This often stems from the underlying belief that “only I can understand him” or that you can access a version of him that no one else can.
Then there’s the undeniable thrill. The inherent intensity, unpredictability, and sheer messiness of these characters can feel far more exhilarating than the steady predictability of a “green-flag” relationship.
And let’s not forget the classic “I can fix him” instinct. This study highlights that individuals with a strong nurturing urge are particularly drawn to characters who appear needy and damaged.
As one Reddit user aptly put it, “So many romances are about a bad boy who gets reformed by the love of a good woman.”
A fourth contributing factor is the sense of freedom these relationships can evoke. Within the context of fiction, these dynamics can feel less about rules and more about raw passion, which can be strangely appealing when it’s safely contained within a narrative and not actively derailing your actual life.
The Evolving Landscape of Toxic Tropes
I genuinely believe this “toxic hottie” phenomenon isn’t going anywhere. It simply morphs and reappears in new formats, as if it has a personal vendetta against our peace of mind. It sometimes feels like there’s a clandestine society dedicated to toxic fictional men, meeting every Monday to brainstorm fresh ways to reintroduce this trope and keep us hooked. And it appears their latest project is vertical dramas.
Also known as micro dramas, these are rapid-fire, serialised stories designed for your phone screen. Shot vertically, with episodes typically lasting only one to two minutes, they are quick, addictive, and dangerously easy to binge without realising you’ve just spent an hour immersed in pure, unadulterated drama.
And before you judge me – because I know you have been this entire time – I didn’t actively seek this out. I stumbled upon it in the way most modern obsessions begin: through mindless scrolling on Instagram. Suddenly, I was presented with an older CEO making wildly inappropriate comments to a much younger woman, and something clicked in my brain.
“Wait a minute,” I thought. “I’ve seen this before.” That’s when it hit me – we now have Wattpad in video form. And I was intrigued.
These bite-sized dramas are packed with billionaire romances, revenge plots, and melodrama so over-the-top that you simultaneously recognise its absurdity and feel compelled to watch the next episode. Often produced on tight budgets and residing on niche apps, they somehow find their way onto your feed with an almost personal mission statement (trust me, that secret society definitely exists).
Having now encountered toxic fictional men across films, series, and these micro dramas, I’ve noticed a significant difference: the female gaze. While the former two often feel like they’re not primarily made for women – we’re just external observers – vertical dramas are different. They clearly know their target audience, and it feels like the camera is on your side.
Now, I know this isn’t exactly a groundbreaking observation, but it’s backed by evidence. According to Jen Cooper, a vertical drama critic and journalist, the primary demographic is “women aged 25 to 65 looking for romance.”
One Reddit user offered a poignant perspective: “I think for a female gaze to exist, it would require an audience that views women as the default type of person and men as aberrations to the norm.”
The Power of Fandom and Algorithms
Beyond these newer formats, online fandoms are instrumental in keeping this trope alive. They’ve made it incredibly easy for these characters to go viral and dominate conversations. It’s no longer just passive appreciation; people are deeply invested. We see edits, fan theories, essays arguing “he’s misunderstood,” and character defences that resemble legal briefs.
The algorithms are equally complicit. One edit can lead to ten, then a hundred, and before you know it, you’re unexpectedly emotionally attached.
And if you dare to voice any criticism of these characters? Good luck. You’re likely to be met with fierce defence. Fandoms will protect them as if it’s a personal affront. In a strange way, this just reinforces the point: even when we know they’re problematic, we’re still rooting for them.
As one Reddit user perfectly articulated, “The problem is that some people don’t think it’s fiction. There are people who don’t see the difference between that and reality.”
And as much as we might roll our eyes, call it out, and swear we’ve moved past it, the moment a new iteration of “him” graces our screens, we’re right back in the thick of it. So, what are your reasons for still being so captivated by these fictional men?
