On a random afternoon, I found myself scrolling through Reddit threads about The Summer I Turned Pretty. Somewhere between "Belly is the worst female lead ever written" and "Jeremiah Fisher is manipulative and immature," I realised: the Internet isn't just watching this show, it's rage-baiting us into endless debates.
Suddenly, you're defending a fictional 21-year-old like he's your best friend or condemning him like he owes you rent.
A still from The Summer I Turned Pretty.
But this phenomenon isn't limited to fandom wars. Rage-baiting, once the playground of click-hungry tabloids and meme accounts, has seeped into our daily lives, and yes, even our relationships.
So, what does it really mean when men rage-bait the women they love? Is it affection disguised as provocation? A new-age love language? Or are we just romanticising bad behaviour?
What Exactly Is Rage-Baiting?
At its core, rage-baiting is simple: say or do something provocative with the aim of sparking a reaction. Online, it fuels algorithms. In relationships, it fuels connection or conflict.
Psychologist Dr Kavya Deshmukh explains, "When people rage-bait in relationships, they're looking for reassurance. By annoying or provoking their partner, they test whether the other person still cares enough to react. It's dysfunctional, but it's also oddly intimate."
Unlike clickbait, which lures you in with curiosity, rage-bait thrives on hostility. And just like on social media - where outrage equals profit - in relationships, outrage can equal attention.
Why Are Men Rage-Baiting The Women They Love?
Scroll back a few years, and men were writing love letters, composing songs, or chasing trains in the rain to win hearts. Today? Many are choosing sarcasm, passive-aggressive digs, or harmless-but-infuriating pranks.
It's not that men don't care anymore; it's that provoking has become a shortcut to intimacy. As clinical therapist Ritu Anand puts it, "For some men, emotional vulnerability feels too risky. Rage-baiting becomes a way to connect without confessing. It's easier to joke, tease, or irritate than to say, 'I need you.'"
My friend's grandfather, for instance, insists dinner tastes "different depending on the day of the week," just to rile up my grandmother. He beams as she sulks, proving that fifty years in, annoying each other is still their love language.
Jeremiah Fisher And The Internet's Collective Rage
Enter Jeremiah from The Summer I Turned Pretty. The show positioned him as the warm, affectionate alternative to the broody Conrad. Yet by Season 3, his impulsiveness and emotional immaturity - from proposing at 21 to manipulating situations with his brother - turned him into the fandom's favourite rage-bait.
A still from The Summer I Turned Pretty.
Memes, hot takes and comment wars piled up. People who hadn't watched a single episode still found themselves arguing whether Jeremiah was toxic or misunderstood. One could argue that Prime Video didn't need to market the show, the internet did it for them.
Much like rage-baiting partners in real life, Jeremiah's behaviour kept everyone hooked. Even his mistakes were fuel for connection: viewers united in their love, or their hatred.
Pop Culture's Love Affair With Rage-Baiting
The trope isn't new. Chandler Bing from Friends mastered the art of using humour to deflect intimacy. In 10 Things I Hate About You, Patrick Verona teased Kat until her walls cracked. Bollywood has revelled in the same dynamic: Hum Tum (2004) turned childish bickering into romance, while Band Baaja Baaraat (2010) had Shruti and Bittoo's arguments simmer into love.
A still from 10 Things I Hate About You.
These narratives suggest that irritation is just another shade of affection. Pop culture sells us the idea that teasing is proof of attraction, an idea reinforced by generations of storytelling.
A still from Hum Tum.
But when does playful banter become unhealthy provocation? That's where rage-baiting crosses the line.
Rage-Baiting, The Internet's Favourite Business Model
Of course, rage-baiting doesn't stop at relationships. Online, it's a billion-dollar engine. Content creators exaggerate, provoke and polarise because anger pays.
Digital strategist Nihar Sharma notes, "Algorithms treat outrage as premium engagement. A hate comment holds more value than a like. That's why creators lean into rage-bait - it's guaranteed visibility, and visibility equals money."
Influencers like Winta Zesu openly admit their most viral videos thrive on hate comments. Platforms reward them with reach, brands reward them with deals, and audiences reward them with attention. Rage is no longer a side effect; it's the product.
Is It Problematic?
There's no denying that a little teasing can be cute. It can even feel like a love language, proof that you know someone well enough to push their buttons. But unchecked, rage-baiting chips away at trust.
Therapist Anand warns, "If every interaction is built on provocation, intimacy gets replaced with irritation. Over time, it stops feeling playful and starts feeling manipulative."
A still from Band Baaja Baaraat.
Which is perhaps why Jeremiah's arc resonates so much. His "well-intentioned provocations" - just like those of countless boyfriends, husbands and exes we've known - are equal parts endearing and exasperating. They keep people hooked, but at what cost?
So, Is This The New Love Language?
Maybe rage-baiting is less of a "new love language" and more of an old defence mechanism, rebranded for the digital age.
In relationships, it's an attempt to connect without being vulnerable. On the Internet, it's engagement without substance.
Either way, rage-baiting thrives on the same formula: provoke, watch the reaction and call it a win.
So the next time someone teases you a little too much, or the internet pushes you into defending Jeremiah Fisher like your life depends on it, pause and ask: Are you being loved, or are you being baited?
Because there's a fine line between playful banter and emotional manipulation. And sometimes, the healthiest response is not to take the bait at all.