I went out for a drink. Just a drink.
Not a psychological summit on love, denial, and why some women bail out men who have *lliterally confessed to murder.

And yet.

Somewhere between the second sip and the bartender’s raised eyebrow, I found my people. A cluster of women who were smart, funny, fully employed, not currently harboring fugitives, bonding over our shared devotion to the cinematic genre I like to call “He Told Me He Was Misunderstood and Also There Was a Body.”

We had all had watched Should I Marry a Murderer? Yah! I had mentioned this to others who did not understand.  We had all binged Worst Ex Ever. We had all yelled at our televisions like emotionally invested sports fans of poor decision-making.

Bit we have to realize, we noted that ge is not a project. He is a crime scene.

And then, as one does when slightly tipsy and deeply aligned, we made a pact.

>We will not bail a dangerous man out of jail. Ever! Not for love. Not for potential. Not because he cried once and quoted poetry incorrectly.

Honestly, it felt like growth.


But here’s the thing. These women in the documentaries aren’t “stupid.” That’s too easy. Too comforting. Too othering.

They are human. Uncomfortably so.

Psychology has a few thoughts about this.

There’s something called Trauma Bonding where intense emotional experiences (especially cycles of affection and harm) create a powerful attachment. It’s not love as much as it is intermittent reinforcement, which, according to behavioral psychology, is the most addictive reward schedule we have. (Translation: the occasional “good moment” hits like a slot machine jackpot.)

Then there’s the ghost of Stockholm Syndrome, where proximity to harm gets tangled up with perceived safety. Your brain, trying to keep you alive, and rewrites the narrative into that he’s not dangerous. He’s just misunderstood. And also misunderstood men sometimes have ankle monitors.*l

Add in low self-esteem (not as a personality flaw, but as a learned lens) suddenly the unacceptable becomes negotiable. Research in social psychology shows that people with lower self-worth are more likely to tolerate harmful behavior because they don’t believe they deserve better. It’s not a conscious decision. It’s a quiet calibration of expectations.

And then, the pièce de résistance: cognitive dissonance. When your heart picks someone your brain wouldn’t swipe right on, your mind doesn’t say, “Oops, mistake.” It says, “Let’s rewrite reality so this makes sense.”

He didn’t lie. He miscommunicated. He didn’t manipulate. He was traumatized.
He didn’t commit a crime. There are just two sides to every homicide.

At some point, one woman, slightly dangerous in her clarity, said

“Maybe I watch these shows because I haven’t sunk that low. Yet.”

And there it was. The quiet truth wrapped in humor.

We don’t just watch to judge.
We watch to locate ourselves on the spectrum.

To say I would never. While some small, honest voice whispers wondering but what if I could? Under the right storm, with the right loneliness, at the wrong time?


Here’s where it gets tricky. Because I am, at my core, a pro-grace person. I hand it out like candy. I tell my son to show it. I tell my staff to lead with it. I believe in second chances, third chances, the redemptive arc, the comeback story.

But somewhere between grace and self-abandonment, there is a line.
And apparently, it is very blurry when you’re in love with someone who needs a criminal defense attorney.

Psychology actually backs this tension. Studies on boundaries and mental health show that the ability to say “no” to harmful behavior is directly tied to emotional well-being. Grace without boundaries isn’t kindness. It’s erosion.

And many of these women in the documentaries? They weren’t choosing between love and leaving.

They were desperately trying to be both compassionate and safe.

And no one had told them clearly enough that sometimes, you cannot do both with the same person.

Anyway. So yes, we laughed at the bar. We judged. We diagnosed from barstools with the confidence of people who have never been proposed to by a man mid-interrogation.

But beneath it, there was something real. A recognition that we are not immune, We are not above it. But we can be aware of it

So we made our pact again, more quietly this time.

We will be kind.
We will be compassionate.
We will believe in growth.

But we will not confuse potential with reality. We will not negotiate with harm. And we will absolutely not Venmo bail money to a man who refers to his past as “a misunderstanding with law enforcement.”

Maybe the goal isn’t to become women who would never.
Maybe it’s to become women who recognize the moment when their heart and brain stop coordinating
and choose to listen to the one that isn’t in love with chaos.

And if all else fails,
text the group chat before you text him. Or better yet.  Meet me at the bar. We have a pact to uphold.