Besties. I’ve officially spent more time this week thinking about red flags in romance novels than I have in actual therapy. And honestly? That feels on brand.

Because let’s be real; my real-life dating history has been beige on beige with a splash of oatmeal. Boring. Predictable. Nobody has ever growled “you’re mine” at me in the Target candle aisle (thank GOD). But my fictional dating life? Pure chaos. Fated mates, fake dating, and exes who keep crawling back like cockroaches after the apocalypse. I read this stuff, eat it up, and then sit here pretending I don’t see the 🚩🚩🚩 like I’m color blind.

And I know I’m not alone. You all comment on my posts, DM me, leave me reviews like, “same bestie, I’m color blind too.”

So today we are going there. We’re unpacking the Holy Trinity of Romance Red Flags That Would Ruin My Actual Life But I Love Anyway:
✨ Fated mates✨ Second-chance romance✨ Fake dating

Here’s the thing: in books, these tropes are serotonin wrapped in angst paper. They make me kick my feet, twirl my hair, and believe in love like I’m thirteen again. But if they happened to me IRL? You’d be listening to this story on a true crime podcast instead of a bookish one.

I love it. I crave it. But if a man ever came up to me in real life and said, “you’re mine, the moon goddess told me so,” I’d be calling 911 before he finished the sentence. Twilight had us all believing that imprinting was the most romantic thing ever. Looking back? No. Just no. If a guy I barely knew growled at me in Target, I’d be hurling a three-wick Bath & Body Works candle at his head and sprinting. Fictional fated mates = swoon. Real-life fated mates = ankle monitor.

Do you know what taking an ex back actually is? A rerun. And not even a good rerun. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting different results, and baby girl, that’s not romance — that’s HBO Max recycling Friends.

And yet… I EAT UP a second-chance romance book. Something about reuniting lovers just hits. But in real life? If my friend told me she was remarrying her ex-husband, I’d stage an intervention. Unless he went to Mars for ten years and came back a changed man, keep that man in the rearview mirror.

And yes, I’ve taken my own ex back before. Over and over. Cheating, drugs, gaslighting, rinse, repeat. It was a whole clown circus, and I was the ringmaster. It took years to snap me out of it. So yeah, I get the appeal of the fantasy. But in reality? I’d rather date a traffic cone. At least the cone doesn’t cheat and it glows in the dark.

You cannot tell me fake dating isn’t the most delicious trope of them all. One bed? Forced intimacy? A kiss that’s “just for the bit”? Inject it into my Kindle immediately.

But let’s be honest — fake dating doesn’t happen in real life. Outside of Hollywood PR stunts, who is doing this? And even if you tried? Absolute disaster.

Fake dating your lab partner so you don’t fail chem? Disaster. Fake dating your barista so you stop paying $8 for coffee? Disaster. Fake dating your landlord so rent is free? BABE. That’s not romance. That’s a Dateline special.

So yeah. Fated mates, second chances, and fake dating. In fiction? They are catnip. In real life? Restraining orders, side-eyes at Thanksgiving, and Dateline specials waiting to happen.

That’s the magic of romance tropes though. They’re safe to play with in books. They let us feel chaos, danger, and passion without any of the actual consequences.

So buckle up, besties. This one’s unhinged, a little feral, and 100% fueled by caffeine.

So… here’s the thing: my toxic trait isn’t just falling in love with fictional men who would ruin my credit score. It’s falling in love with them, knowing they’re walking red flags, and still calling them my book boyfriend while I make playlists about their emotional damage like it’s therapy homework. ✨

Welcome to this week’s episode of Unread & Unfiltered — Trauma Bonds & Book Boyfriends: Why We Love Red Flags in Romance.

We’re spiraling (lovingly) about:

• Why our brains are addicted to chaos (dopamine + fight-or-flight = suspiciously like foreplay, anyone?)

• The book boyfriend pipeline — how one tragic backstory turns into us defending emotional war crimes like it’s a full-time job

• The difference between loving toxic romance tropes in fiction vs. accidentally letting them rewire our standards in real life

• Why we keep mistaking slammed doors for passion, silence for mystery, and manipulation for devotion

• And how to actually enjoy your morally gray, emotionally unavailable, jawline-having favorites responsibly (because fantasy ≠ relationship goals)

Because let’s be real:📚 He says “I would destroy kingdoms for you,” and we’re swooning like he didn’t just admit to genocide.
📚 He sulks in the corner, trauma dumps at 3am, and disappears for three weeks — and we’re like, “yes babe, tell me more about your tortured soul.”
📚 He climbs into your bedroom window “for protection” and suddenly it’s not creepy, it’s romantic… except IRL? That’s just breaking and entering.

And yet… we love it. We eat it up. We will absolutely defend a man who needs therapy, a hug, and a court-mandated communication workshop.

This episode is chaotic, caffeinated, and deeply unserious at times — but it’s also about something bigger: how stories teach us what love is supposed to look like. For a lot of us? We were taught early on that love = chaos. That being chosen means being broken together. That passion requires pain. And when that blueprint shows up in books, it feels familiar. It feels like home.

But here’s the truth: love shouldn’t feel like war. Love should feel like the nap afterward — safe, peaceful, maybe even someone holding your iced coffee while you parallel park.

So grab your emotional support blanket and a beverage of choice (iced coffee, wine, Dr Pepper, I don’t judge). Let’s unpack why trauma bonds and red flag romances are fun on the page, messy in real life, and what it means when we start confusing the two.

Pop culture loves to tell us that once you survive something together, you’re bonded for life. From golden trios to TikTok edits set to Phoebe Bridgers, it’s always the same: chaos + loyalty = forever family.

But let’s be real. Most of us don’t have a sitcom couch of forever friends. We have survival families — temporary, duct-taped chaos goblins who appear during crisis, burn bright, and then vanish once the smoke clears.

This episode is a caffeine-fueled rant about the myth of forever family, the messy truth of trauma bonds, and why fandom “family” vibes combust faster than your paycheck on payday.

In this episode:

• Survival Buddies vs. Soulmates → why clinging to someone in crisis doesn’t equal forever-family energy.

• Found Family Tropes in Books & Pop Culture → from ACOTAR’s Court of Dreams to the Golden Trio, why media romanticizes the “forever bond” that real life rarely delivers.

• The Trauma Bond to Book Boyfriend Pipeline → how we confuse shared chaos with destiny and start romanticizing red flags (especially when they’re holding swords).

• Messy Fandom Families → why Swifties, Marvel stans, and Star Wars fans feel like bloodlines…until one casting announcement drops and suddenly it’s Lord of the Flies in the group chat.

• Real-Life Situational Families → coworkers trauma bonding over nightmare managers, mom friends who only exist until daycare ends, retail crews surviving Black Friday like it’s a warzone.

  
  

  My extended rant:

• Found family stories are comforting because they promise us this: love can be chosen, loyalty can be forever, and chaos can create something permanent. And while that looks great on screen, in real life? Most found families are built for survival, not eternity.

  Think about it:

  • That coworker you trauma bonded with during retail hell.

  • The friend group formed entirely around hating your ex.

  • The fandom chat that felt like a cult until someone said “maybe the villain was right.”

  They all feel like family because culture has drilled it into us: “survive together = bonded forever.” But once the crisis fades, you’re left realizing that the only thing holding you together was shared pain, not shared values.

  And here’s the kicker → when we confuse survival bonds with soulmate bonds, we start making messy decisions. We excuse toxic friendships because “they’re basically family.” We romanticize red flags in romance novels because trauma bonding gets dressed up as destiny. And before we know it, we’ve slid straight into the trauma bond ➝ book boyfriend pipeline.

  In this episode, I call out:

  • Bookish fandoms that feel more like cults than communities (matching tattoos, secret lingo, “betray the family and you’re out”). Babe, that’s not a book club. That’s a Netflix docuseries waiting to happen.

  • Situational found families that were real and powerful… but not permanent. From coworkers running on iced coffee and spite to fandom friends who vanish the second the discourse shifts.

  • Pop culture manipulation → why permanence sells. It’s easier to market “forever family” than admit that most friendships expire like milk in August.

  Because here’s the truth: for now can still be love. It doesn’t have to be forever to be meaningful. Sometimes your survival buddy is exactly who you needed in that moment — a crisis-specific life raft. And when it’s time to let them go? That doesn’t make it less real. It makes it human.

  • If you’ve ever wondered why that “forever friend” from high school stopped texting once graduation hit.

  • If you’ve trauma bonded with a coworker only to realize you had nothing in common once the crisis ended.

  • If you’ve been in a fandom that swore it was “family”… until someone suggested the villain had a point.

  This episode is the messy, unhinged reminder that not all found families are soulmates. Some are survival buddies. And that’s okay.

  
  

  Next week we’re diving full force into Trauma Bonds and Book Boyfriends — aka Why Red Flags Look Cuter When They’re Holding a Sword.