TV's 12 worst love interests

Sara Ramirez had no idea what they were walking into while signing up for And Just Like That…. The Sex And The City revival does no favors to Che Diaz, who is the definition of a walking, talking caricature instead of a human being. Yes, Che finally adds much-needed diversity to the show, but at what cost if they aren’t given any traits besides a generic idea of being “woke.” There’s no point adding queer characters and love stories like Che and Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) if it’s all flash and zero substance. Che is messy, ridiculously frustrating, and arrogant. On the plus side: The season two scene of them suddenly recording a Cameo while in bed will forever make me laugh. Their stand-up act chastising Miranda, though, is a whole different matter. [Saloni Gajjar]

Poor Piz. He never really stood a chance coming in between the star-crossed romance of Veronica (Kristen Bell) and Logan (Jason Dohring). It’s a testament to the fact that the gang loved Chris Lowell so much that he stuck around as long as he did (even returning for the revival film), because the fans were, well, not fans of Piz. This was a classic attempt to pair up the complicated, hard-edged heroine with an uncomplicated, golden retriever kind of guy. Except Marshmallows didn’t want uncomplicated—they wanted epic. It didn’t help that Piz hung around somewhat pathetically waiting for a shot with Veronica even when she was with someone else. By the time Logan gave Piz a real beating in the series’ penultimate episode, many of us were glad to see him take the punch. [Mary Kate Carr]

It’s so obvious that Christopher (David Sutcliffe) is a mere hurdle to Luke and Lorelai’s relationship. Plus, he’s a pretty bad father to Rory, despite his attempts not to be. He isn’t a problem for much of the show’s duration, and then—bam—season seven suddenly brings Christopher and Lorelai together for some damn reason. All it does is prove he’s not husband material. Instead, he’s insecure and immature, and, what’s more, he limits Lorelai’s growth as a person. He also has no actual chemistry with his love interest, making it hard to try and care for their relationship. [Saloni Gajjar]

Like some of the other entries on this list, Claire’s clear purpose from the minute she was introduced was to come between our protagonist and his one true love. In this case, Carmy’s endgame just happens to be food and his restaurant rather than a human romantic partner. (Sorry, Carmy x Sydney shippers. It’s never gonna happen.) for being a manic pixie dream girl-esque fantasy who didn’t fit into a show where people get stabbed on the line and someone drives a car into a living room. Poor Molly Gordon did the best she could with some really unfortunate dialogue, but there was really nothing anyone could do to make people fall in love with the character. In the end, Carmy couldn’t either. [Emma Keates]

Jack (Jodi Balfour) is yet another classic case of a character basically invented to keep the couple we like apart, made all the worse by the sloppy writing that went into in the third season of . We were already predisposed to dislike Jack because we’d rather have seen Keeley with Roy (or Jamie, if you’re into that sort of thing), but the relationship was also littered with red flags. There was the weird ethical question of dating a person while also investing in their company, the love-bombing, and then, worst of all, pushing Keeley to release an apology about her leaked nude video even though Keeley was the one who had been violated. There was very little redeeming about this relationship, and it was a relief to see Jack go. [Mary Kate Carr]

There aren’t that many situations where “clandestine monster-hunting super soldier” is the most boring option to choose from out of a main character’s various love interests—except, of course, when said main character is Buffy Summers. Falling in the romantic valley between two different sexy, brooding vampires, Marc Blucas’ all-American do-gooder Riley Finn never really stood a chance, either in the story of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, or in its fanbase’s hearts. It didn’t help that he ran out of narrative steam pretty much the second the show dispensed with its fourth season “Initiative” plot-line—or that he’s front and center for some of its most embarrassing story beats. (We’re looking at you, ) His biggest sin, though, was his own chill nature: The Buffy universe runs on drama as much as it does magical sacrifices or endless prophecies, and there’s just no room for a nice dude without literal centuries of baggage hanging over his head. [William Hughes]

Paige (Lindsay Shaw) is part of another nasty trend for bad love interests, which is “homophobic bully ends up dating their victim.” Initially, Paige and Emily (Shay Mitchell) were rivals on the swim team, and in addition to just being mean, Paige at one point actually tried to drown Emily. But somehow they got over that and became one of the series’ longest running couples?! Anyone Emily dated was going to have a hard time measuring up to her best girlfriend, Maya (Bianca Lawson), but Paige was seriously annoying on top of having once attempted to murder her. Unfortunately, Emily had seriously terrible taste in women, so it’s no wonder this on-and-off relationship spanned several seasons. [Mary Kate Carr]

It’s clear from episode one that Roy is nothing more than an obstacle to Jim and Pam’s inevitable relationship. Still, did he have to be this annoying? Roy is the definition of a useless boyfriend. He pays no attention to Pam’s needs or interests, and he’d rather impose his choices on her. It became increasingly tedious to watch her with him, and not just because we were all desperately waiting for Jim and Pam to get together. As a random saving grace, brought Roy back for a final season episode to show us what a changed man he is. The question is, who cares? [Saloni Gajjar]

Ted Moseby never lacked in romantic partners; it’s part of what made the search for the titular mother the driving force of How I Met Your Mother. The writers were also careful (at least in the beginning) to never reveal one of these love interests as the mother or not; we made it all the way to the altar before it was confirmed that Stella Zinman was one of the non-mothers in our midst. Unfortunately for Zoey Pierson, coming after this betrayal left audiences (and Ted) eager for something more serious. It was pretty obvious from the beginning that Zoey was not the mother, and as their relationship dragged on and the show kept getting renewed, it felt like everyone was stalling for time. [Drew Gillis]

Steve Urkle’s actual girlfriend on Family Matters was a foil for Laura, an attempt at showing her what she was losing by rejecting Steve. While it did give Urkle something to do besides harass his neighbor, Myra was never a character that we looked forward to seeing. If anything, the cast around her seemed just as annoyed by her presence as we were. Obviously, that’s the point. It’s not like she was designed to be a hip love interest for TGIF’s favorite nerd, which probably would’ve been a better dynamic. For all intents and purposes, she was girl Urkle (Gurkle?), and that’s simply one Urkle too many. [Matt Schimkowitz]

We love that gave Mabel a queer love interest in season two, but did she have to be so goddamn aggravating? After a whole season of watching the incredible chemistry between Selena Gomez, Steve Martin, and Martin Short, adding Cara Delvigne to the mix was a real bummer. She and Gomez were so stiff around each other that it was hard to believe their characters even liked each other, much less experienced any sort of mutual attraction. Luckily, Alice turned out to be a red herring and disappeared by the end of the season. So long, Alice! You will not be missed. [Emma Keates]

It’s probably rude to dunk on a character in the throes of a quarter-life crisis, edging towards her mid-30s and still working as an improv teacher as her dreams of Hollywood stardom drift from her grasp. It’s a sad story, for sure and packs an emotional wallop when she lands on “some people aren’t meant to achieve their dreams,” but getting there is a lot. She does not support Edgar, who suffers from PTSD and heroin addiction, when he needs her. Furthermore, his emotional problems outweigh her professional ones, making her appear pretty selfish in the face of all he’s going through. To be clear, this all makes sense on the plot level, and the performance from Collette Wolfe is spot on, but dealing with a 35-year-old improv teacher in intense loser denial for two seasons is a tall ask. [Matt Schimkowitz]