Why FMCs Are So Often the Killjoys of Romance

And Why Readers Often Hate Them For It.

Female main characters in romance are often the most reviled figures in their own stories.

Yes, misogyny plays a role. Some readers view the FMC as competition for the book boyfriend. Others excuse psychotic, coercive, or even murderous behavior from the MMC as an “adorable red flag,” while judging an FMC’s desire for a job promotion—or basic autonomy—as proof she’s insufferable, cold, or too stupid to function.

But there’s another reason this pattern keeps showing up, and it’s structural rather than moral.

FMCs are often written as the killjoys of the romance.

She’s the one reminding the reader of the Big Lie she believes:

• My parents’ divorce proves relationships never last.

• I’m not the kind of person who gets happily ever after.

• This is just sex. I’m definitely not falling in love.

This crystallized for me while reading a contemporary MF romantic comedy this week.

The MMC and FMC had already slept together multiple times. They had chemistry. They liked each other. No one needed to move away. Their jobs were flexible. Money wasn’t an issue. Family wasn’t an issue. And yet…I still had 70% of the book left.

So how did the story continue?

By having the FMC, before and after every intimate encounter, remind the increasingly gaga MMC that this was the last time, the relationship was going nowhere, and she was fundamentally unserious and unlovable.

At a certain point, this stops functioning as tension and starts functioning as friction.

And it stops the story and the romance in its tracks.

And yes, with a lot of book left, it becomes annoying.

From the reader’s perspective, she’s jerking the MMC’s feelings around from spicy scene to spicy scene. The dynamic shifts from “guarded but vulnerable” to Girl! Make up your mind.

If the woman character is always the one applying the brakes, of course readers get frustrated with her. That frustration is baked into the structure of the story.

The Third-Act Breakup Problem

Another pattern worth noticing: how many third-act breakups are initiated by the FMC?

A large majority.

The solution is not to simply hand the “destroyer of fun” duties to the MMC. For many readers, a woman’s hot-and-cold behavior is explained as trauma or self-protection. A man with the same behavior is more likely to read as not actually interested.

(Which, incidentally, exposes a cultural double standard about whose boundaries we interpret as valid.)

But there are ways to structure romance so the FMC isn’t carrying the entire burden of resistance.

How to Take the Brake Burden Off the FMC

1. External conflict has to do real work.

You need genuine opposition outside the relationship.

The MMC’s goals should be in tension with the FMC’s goals.

And both goals must be reasonable.

If one character’s motivation is clearly flimsier, that character will read as obstinate or irrational for resisting the romance.

Historical romance often gets this “for free” through class, inheritance laws, or limits on female autonomy. Contemporary romance has to work harder here.

2. Tell the most efficient version of the story.

If the reader hasn’t learned something new about either character from a scene, that scene probably doesn’t belong.

You can get away with one “just vibes” hookup scene. Maybe two. But if the story keeps repeating the same beat—sex followed by “but we shouldn’t”—readers stop reading that as tension and start reading it as inconsistency.

At that point, the FMC isn’t conflicted. She has no discernible principles.

3. The Big Lie has to be strong.

If the central belief relies on flimsy miscommunication or easily solvable misunderstandings, readers will roll their eyes.

Weak Big Lies don’t feel poignant. They feel convoluted or excessively neurotic.

Characters who read as neurotic (fairly or not) are often read as annoying.

4. Both characters need to be active romantics.

(This is not a call for more female emotional labor.)

Too often, romance fantasy is one-sided:

The MMC plans the dates.
He remembers her favorite ice cream.
He makes the mixtape.

If the FMC doesn’t offer parallel gestures (whether that’s emotional, romantic, creative, or practical), she risks being perceived as a taker rather than a partner.

I am not asking a woman character to do more emotional labor, manage male feelings, or carry the relationship.

But she should equitably contribute to the fantasy of being chosen.

In my romantic comedy Personal Best, for example, Beau is already competent, talented, and desirable. He doesn’t need saving. But when he’s vying for a high-profile audition, Saoirse brings her music taste, artistic instincts, and sense of play to help shape his cycling persona. She sharpens his presentation. She adds something to his life that didn’t exist before her. Their collaboration makes their romance all-the-hotter.

If the woman is the only one receiving the fantasy, it primes the audience to judge harshly, because the relationship flows primarily in one direction with the MMC pursuing and the FMC withholding.

Romance works best when both characters are changed by being loved.

She brings warmth, steadiness, vision, humor, or creative energy that actively enhances his life as he enhances hers. Their desire is mutual.

When both characters are active romantics, neither has to be the killjoy. And the FMC no longer bears the burden of being the story’s brake pedal.

If You’re Annoyed by an FMC, Check the Structure.

If you find yourself bracing every time the FMC appears on the page, it may not be internalized misogyny.

It may be that the story has assigned her the role of narrative wet blanket.

And that’s a structural choice, not a personality flaw.