Happy 2026, everyone. With each new year comes a new list of cultural ins and outs: what we’re wearing, which apps we’re deleting and what habits we’re breaking. And, this fall, the internet spoke: Boyfriends are on the outs.

 In October, a British Vogue article titled, “Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?” took the internet by storm. The piece described how women increasingly hide their partners online, opting instead for the “soft launch”: a cropped face, an ominous hand.

 As Vogue put it, women want “the prize and celebration of partnership but understand the norminess of it,” and “having a boyfriend typically takes hits on a woman’s aura.” Even Jaz and Halley Kate asked, “Why does having a boyfriend feel Republican?” (P.S. Everyone is entitled to their own political opinions!)

 But I’ll raise Vogue one better: Having a husband is embarrassing. Not because it’s uncool. Not because it’s boring. But because statistically, historically and repeatedly, they’ll kill you.

 Just recently, in Boston, Brian Walshe was sentenced to life in prison for murdering his wife, Ana Walshe. Her body has never been found. The thing is, prosecutors didn’t need it. They had his Google searches: “best way to dispose of a body,” “how long before a body starts to smell” and “hacksaw best tool to dismember.” They had surveillance footage, DNA, trash bags and tools. His best defense was calling it a “sudden, unexplained death.” Needless to say, the jury didn’t buy that.

 Then, there’s Laci Peterson. In 2002, Peterson disappeared while eight months pregnant. Her husband, Scott Peterson, mourned publicly, searched tirelessly and positioned himself as the grieving spouse. Months later, her body washed up in San Francisco Bay. The lies, affairs and evidence that came out at the trial were far different from the tearful speeches Scott Peterson made at vigils.

“For some reason, the more documentaries I watch, the clearer the pattern becomes: It is always the damn husband.”

 Boston has also seen this pattern before in a case that still makes my head spin. In 1989, near Commonwealth Avenue, Carol Stuart was shot in the head by her husband, Charles Stuart. Like Laci, Carol was also pregnant. Charles blamed a fictional Black man. That lie triggered months of stop-and-frisk policing in Mission Hill. An innocent man was treated as guilty, and his life was nearly destroyed. Surprise, folks: It was the husband. He murdered his wife for insurance money, got caught and jumped off the Tobin Bridge.

 For some reason, the more documentaries I watch, the clearer the pattern becomes: It is always the damn husband. Venus Stewart, murdered and buried in a shallow grave, her husband waiting years to confess. Christine Koklich, killed by her husband in a sick and twisted staged murder. Kathleen Peterson, found dead at the bottom of a staircase, her husband at the top, in one of the most contested domestic-death cases in recent history.

 A public health study found that homicide and suicide combined are the leading causes of death for pregnant and postpartum women in the United States. The perpetrator is most often a current or former partner. This isn’t just about true crime culture. When women hesitate to post their boyfriends or joke that having one is “lame,” it’s not just a tagline. It might be an understanding that the most dangerous person to a woman is statistically the man who says he loves her.

 So, yes. Crop tops are out. Snapchat is out. Bad posture is out.

 And I think husbands are, too.