Clockwise from bottom left: Frasier (Screenshot: YouTube/Paramount+), The Muppet Show (Screenshot: YouTube/MuppetMan97), Friends (Screenshot: YouTube/Max)
With Will They/Won’t They, LaToya Ferguson digs into the classic and definitive uncertain relationships throughout the history of television and decides whether all of that waiting was even worth it. This month, she looks at Unrequited Pining (a.k.a. After All These Years, a.k.a. the “Just Wear Her Down” subset of will-they/won’t-they).
When did you first realize that Duckie sucks? No, that’s not technically a question that requires any television knowledge, extensive or otherwise, but it’s a question—and a larger—concept that ends up extending far outside the confines of John Hughes’ Pretty In Pink. The “Nice Guy” male “best friend” who’s always been there for their female counterpart, just hoping that one day she’ll open her eyes and see that he’s been the one for her this whole time—not whatever pretty boy asshole (because, especially compared to him, they’re all assholes) she’s into. Sometimes he plays it close to the vest. Sometimes he’s persistent as hell, hoping against hope that the adage of “just wear her down” ends up finally working. Sometimes they’re not even friends, as he continues to watch—and stalk and harass—her from afar (except for during the harassing parts).
It’s not exactly the most romantic concept when you spell it out like that—and, to be fair, that’s not the most charitable reading—but that doesn’t make it any less of a will-they/won’t-they trope that both film and television love to hit. The unrequited love—deeply seeded pining—that leads audiences to wonder, “Will they? Ever?” The question then becomes: “Will she ever even find out about his feelings?” “Will she ever reciprocate?” “Should she reciprocate?”
Sometimes the gender dynamics are flipped, which ends up being part of the fun of it. Seriously, it’s not all stalking and harassing and “Nice Guys.” There’s just a lot of it.
The Muppet Show and extended Muppets universe (1976–)
Now, the relationship of Kermit The Frog and Miss Piggy spans not just seasons but various television shows and feature films. In Miss Piggy’s mind, this isn’t a will-they/won’t-they dynamic at all: She and her “Kermy” clearly already have and always will, forever more. In Kermit’s mind, well, things are a little more complicated. Does Kermit reciprocate Miss Piggy’s—quite aggressive—feelings, or is he just trying to keep their thing as platonic as possible without invoking her wrath?
If you want to take things too seriously—to the point of calling Miss Piggy a “domestic abuser”—there are surely plenty of think pieces explaining just why Kermit/Miss Piggy are not an ideal relationship. But the idea of the “just wear him down” approach being the key to a love story between two anthropomorphic felt animals—an approach that worked enough for there to be a big-screen marriage and two publicbreakups between the characters—is definitely a twist on this will-they/won’t-they pairing. Especially as Piggy is mostly portrayed as higher status, with bigger aspirations for fame and success (thus leading to the breakups) than Kermit. He also tends to be portrayed as less against Piggy’s advances as he is just unable to commit and too focused on being the straight man to the Muppets to think about personal relationships in general. That’s especially true in the original run of The Muppet Show: While Kermit was just trying to be the amphibian running the literal show, diva Miss Piggy was more concerned with getting him to reciprocate her (very strong) feelings.
Saved By The Bell (four seasons, 1989-1993)
To be fair, throughout the run of the original Saved By The Bell (and its one-season precursor, Good Morning, Miss Bliss), it was always pretty much a given that the answer to the will-they/won’t-they question between king of the geeks Samuel “Screech” Powers (Dustin Diamond) and shallow rich girl Lisa Turtle (Lark Voorhies) would be “they won’t.” But that didn’t stop Screech from continuing to pursue the very uninterested Lisa, nor did it stop the show from making clear that—even though, again, “they wouldn’t”—Screech’s feelings for Lisa mattered more than Lisa’s revulsion over said feelings. In fact, the season-four episode “The Bayside Triangle”—which sees Lisa and Zack (Mark-Paul Gosselaar) share a romantic connection—revolves around the heartbreak that the very idea of Lisa/Zack together causes Screech. Funnily enough, that episode also effectively ends Screech’s dogged pursuit of Lisa for the rest of the series.
For all of the chasing and “just wear her down” behavior involved in the Screech/Lisa dynamic, however, it never seemed like the Saved By The Bell writers wanted to truly pursue the idea of the two together. In fact, in the second-season premiere (“The Prom”), Screech actually does wear Lisa down enough to get her to go on a date with him to the movies—only for Screech to be turned off and annoyed by the fact that Lisa talks through the whole thing and then refuse to go to the prom with her. In classic Saved By The Bell continuity-less fashion, Screech still goes back to pining after her again. But at least no switch is flipped for Lisa causing her to suddenly want Screech in return.
The friendship dynamics in Saved By The Bell were all over the place, considering the very broad archetypes each character in the gang played, and Screech/Lisa was no exception. But despite how much this pairing seemingly defines the worst of this particular trope, it’s arguably as well-meaning as it gets. While most of Lisa’s reactions to Screech throughout the series are filled with annoyance and disgust, there are still moments where she is at least a decent (and far too gracious, considering Screech’s persistence) person and friend to him despite it all. This ultimately culminated in Lisa taking pity on Screech and offering to be his prom date—after he failed on his own to find anyone else who would be interested—in the fourth season’s “The Senior Prom.”
Family Matters (nine seasons, 1989-1998)
The nerd in love with the popular girl next door is a tale as old as time. Of the pairings in this piece, the ones in Saved By The Bell and Family Matters obviously have the most in common. And as two shows of the same era and very much of their specific time, it tracks that there would be some overlap in the approach to their will-they/won’t-theys. But the way things were depicted between Lisa Turtle and Screech Powers was arguably child’s play compared to that of Laura Winslow (Kellie Shanygne Williams) and Steve Urkel (Jaleel White).
First of all, unlike on Saved By The Bell, the geeky character’s (Urkel) love for the girl who’s way out of his league (Laura) ultimately became the crux of the series, with the hope being that one day Laura would give up the jerks she’d usually date and see Urkel for who he really is (past the high-pitched voice, high-water pants, and high intake of cheese): the one who’s always truly loved her for her. Of course, to reach that day, Family Matters had to completely jump the shark. By season five, still vying for Laura’s love and getting nowhere (with her even telling him he has to change, which surely wasn’t the first time), child-genius scientist Urkel develops a potion to bring out his “cool genes,” thus creating the uber-suave alter ego (and suddenly viable love interest for Laura) Stefan Urquelle (also Jaleel White).
Stefan’s introduction in “Dr. Urkel And Mr. Cool” is a turning point in the Urkel/Laura relationship, as Stefan is shallow and callous—unlike Urkel—and after the initial shine wears off, Laura ultimately ends up not wanting to see him again. But instead of that being a one-and-done that leads the way toward Urkel/Laura on the romance front, Urkel works to tweak the Stefan Urquelle formula (and creates a transformation chamber in the process) to have Urkel’s sensitivity and Stefan’s suaveness, leading to a love triangle between Urkel, his alter ego (who eventually becomes a separate entity, using cloning technology), and Laura for the rest of the series. (Laura finally gives into feelings for Urkel in the final season.) It was definitely a more complicated approach to the “just wear her down” dynamic, but somehow a Perfect Strangers spin-off ended up getting this complex (and being about a Black nerd named Steve Urkel).
Frasier (11 seasons, 1993-2004)
There are two pairings here that count as definitive, essentially setting the standards and breaking the mold for this particular type of will-they/won’t-they dynamic: Niles and Daphne on Frasier and Ross and Rachel on Friends.
Niles/Daphne might not be as shorthand in the pop-culture lexicon as Ross/Rachel, but the duo is ultimately harder to argue against or find true flaws in (except for in the eighth season, in which Frasier‘swriters decided to use an unfortunate tactic to work around a pregnant actor). Which is especially impressive, considering their story begins with a married Niles Crane (David Hyde Pierce) meeting and immediately pining after his father’s live-in physical therapist, Daphne Moon (Jane Leeves). And in terms of the will-they/won’t-they situation, the series actually managed to keep the two characters from getting together—finally professing their mutual love for one another and sharing their first kiss—until the seventh-season finale. (This was just after Niles had gotten remarried, which, again, makes this entire situation impressive in terms of keeping Niles/Daphne likable both as individuals and a romantic pairing.) Sure, Family Matters waited until the last season to finally put Steve/Laura together, but it also made that will-they/won’t-they especially complicated by mid-series.
Like with most things Frasier, a major key to the execution of this dynamic was the performers and their elite skills in playing the different beats of the series. Hyde Pierce’s nebbish and bumbling portrayal of Niles never really veered into “Nice Guy” territory, and Niles’ depiction was more about experiencing his feelings from afar and never trying to wear Daphne down or overstep in a way that turned things from charming to creepy. And Daphne’s obliviousness to Niles’ feelings over the seasons was treated more as the character—which Leeves’ portrayal made otherwise confident and self-assured—not possibly thinking someone as high-status and intellectual as Niles could even look at her like that. While there were momentsthroughout the series where it was clear that Daphne also had feelings for Niles (or, at least, could), the timing was never right (until Daphne’s wedding day).
Friends (10 seasons, 1994-2004)
At this point, plenty has been said about Ross and Rachel both as a pair and as individual Friends characters. (Yes, they “were on a break,” but Ross hooked up with Chloe the copy girl just a couple of hours after said break started. Come on, dude.) So, for better or worse, they are the definitive will-they/won’t-they relationship, especially when it comes to unrequited pining on Ross Geller’s (David Schwimmer) end. Having been in love with his younger sister’s best friend Rachel Green (Jennifer Aniston) since they were teenagers, and having just gotten out of a failed marriage (his first of the series) when Friends begins, Ross is essentially given a second chance of getting his dream girl as soon as runaway bride Rachel enters Central Perk.
And by mid-season two—after Rachel has to deal with her own unrequited feelings for Ross once she sees some old prom-video footage—the two do get together. The rest, of course, is bumpy romantic-comedy television history. Again, plenty has been said about them that’s critical—that Ross is a stereotypical “Nice Guy,” that Ross and Rachel are toxic together, that Rachel gave up her dream job for Ross, that nothing new is being brought to the table here. But despite all that, there’s something undeniable in Schwimmer and Aniston’s work together on the show—whether you love or hate their two characters together. Like Frasier, Friends was a network sitcom (a must-see one, at that) with a cast that elevated the material in front of them. That ability allowed not only the show to endure, but also the relationships. And Ross/Rachel was the relationship.
Ed (four seasons, 2000-2004)
Sometimes a nice guy is just a nice guy. That was the case with the titular Ed Stevens (Tom Cavanagh), which made it a no-brainer why he would be the perfect guy for Carol Vessey (Julie Bowen). Ed and Carol may have had the “nerdy kid with the crush on the popular cheerleader” backstory to kick it off, but what sustained the love story and the will-they/won’t-they relationship throughout the course of Ed’s run was the inherent charm that Cavanagh brought to his character. This earnestness presents Ed as more of a nice guy than a “Nice Guy” and also makes him calling his shot with Carol—who’s in a seven-year relationship when the series begins and then continues it through the majority of the show to try to deny that Ed’s the right guy for her—feel like romantic boldness as opposed to frustrating attempts to wear this woman down.
As Ed’s emotional cards are on the table from the beginning of the show, his feelings for Carol definitely make things difficult for his other love interests (as well as hers). But in the final season, Ed/Carol finally take the plunge, giving their relationship a shot and then ending it all with a wedding. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
Brooklyn Nine-Nine (eight seasons, 2013-2021)
To be fair to the character of Charles Boyle (Joe Lo Truglio), thankfully Brooklyn Nine-Nine only allowed the will-they/won’t-they aspect of this situation (and Boyle’s Duckieness, in the form of “The Full Boyle”) to exist for the first nine episodes of the series before nipping it in the bud. But boy, were they a long nine episodes. In fact, 11 years ago, Genevieve Valentine made perfectly clear on this very site why Boyle’s infatuation (nay, obsession) with fellow detective Rosa Diaz (Stephanie Beatriz) was beyond played out. To quote Genevieve’s piece:
“And that’s the problem: A generation of romantic comedies rewarding men for diligently pursuing a woman until she caves has normalized a behavior that has direct and unwelcome corollaries in real life. In an era when we’re having open conversations about representation and sensitivity in comedy, the shtick of a guy who won’t take no for an answer has lost any charm it once held. It’s become either a romantic signpost to set up a long-term romantic dynamic (which it shouldn’t), or it’s shorthand to denote a clueless creep while rarely taking him to task for it.”
Essentially, it’s “just wear her down.” Again, Boyle ends up moving on from this situation with Rosa—both saving the character and paving the way for a genuinely solid friendship between the two—and Brooklyn Nine-Nine remained firm in its “they won’t” answer (to the point that it would be easy to forget it was ever a question). But especially at the time, the pushback to this particular take on the trope was revealing just how much the cultural conversation had shifted regarding these types of dynamics.
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (four seasons, 2016-2019)
The thing about this particular subsection of the will-they/won’t-they trope is that for all of the less than flattering “just wear her down” rhetoric, that aforementioned pushback led to subversive takes on the type. (Not Another Teen Movie even directly takes on the Duckie of it all.)
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend flips the gender roles of the unrequited pining (à la Kermit/Miss Piggy), with Rebecca Bunch (Rachel Bloom), a professionally successful but personally struggling New York lawyer who uproots her life to try and reunite with the one person who made her happy, Josh (Vincent Rodriguez III), her summer-camp crush and “boyfriend” from 10 years ago. It’s something of a Felicity-esque premise, only this time, it fully admits that Felicity Porter (Keri Russell) must have suffered from some sort of undiagnosed mental illness. (And for the record: Felicity will be a part of this column in the future.)
Ultimately, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend was far less about Rebecca’s romantic relationships—with Josh or any of the other guys on the show she ended up having a will-they/won’t-they situations with—and more about her finally coming to terms with her mental illness and learning how to exist as her own person. But using the will-they/won’t-they concept—and doing so with the dynamic that most leads audiences to question the premises of “Nice [Girls]” and “just wear [him] down”—allowed for a pretty great critique of the entire trope.
Next time: love/hate (a.k.a. the enemies-to-lovers scenario)
