Consent, Power, and Thematic Collapse in Me and Thee
One of the earliest and most consistent lessons Me and Thee establishes is that true character is built on gratitude, apology, and, most importantly, consent. Peach explicitly teaches Thee these values: first, how to say “thank you,” then how to offer a sincere apology, and finally, what consent actually looks like in practice. These are not merely incidental moments; they form the foundational pillars of Thee’s character development throughout the series.
The problem is that the finale undermines its own logic so thoroughly that the previous eight episodes’ worth of thematic construction is rendered moot. This contradiction is significant because the show (and P’X himself) explicitly marketed Me and Thee as a story with deeper substance beneath the jokes. When a series is that loud about its themes, the audience has every right to hold it accountable when it fails to deliver on them.
1. The Proposal: Spectacle, Power, and the Absence of Consent
The proposal scene is deeply problematic, both narratively and thematically.
While Thee is known for his grand gestures, the series seems to have developed narrative amnesia regarding the mafia lore that defines him. Love doesn’t magically erase his position in the Lee family. As his father pointedly reminded Peach in Episode 9, Thee remains a part of that world regardless of his romantic status. If that weren’t the case, Peach would never have needed to learn to fight or shoot in the first place. Enemies don’t just vanish because you’ve fallen in love. The show established that these threats are persistent—evidenced by Thee’s mother being kidnapped—proving that as long as you carry the family name, you are a target. You can’t just opt out of your lineage.
Given the context, broadcasting a proposal nationwide isn’t romantic—it’s reckless. Canonically, the Lee family avoids public celebrations to prevent assassination attempts¹. Yet, Thee publicly announces their identities and coordinates while simultaneously claiming to be “considerate” of Peach’s introverted nature. This contradiction is a major issue. You can’t claim to value privacy while turning a proposal into a national spectacle. It makes no sense to spend the whole season hiding² just to gift-wrap yourself for your enemies in the final episode.
More importantly, the proposal directly contradicts Thee’s own promise from Episode 7:
“And don’t worry—ARSENI won’t make your life chaotic. The world I’m about to build… it will have only the two of us.”
By invoking ARSENI during the proposal, Thee doesn’t just break that promise; he actively subjects Peach to physical danger and extreme emotional pressure.
A public, broadcasted proposal effectively strips Peach of his ability to say “no.” Consent cannot exist when a refusal would result in public humiliation or massive social backlash.
This isn’t a romantic milestone; it’s a violation of the “safe world” Thee originally promised to create.
This brings us back to the show’s earlier, explicit focus on consent.
In Episode 1, Peach clearly states that grabbing someone’s hand without permission—even if you’re familiar with them—can be considered luan laam (harassment).
Thee actually learns from this; before their first kiss, he explicitly asks, “If I kissed you right now, would that be considered luan laam?”
That specific growth is what makes the proposal scene feel like such a massive regression that ignores the very foundation of their relationship’s respect.
Throughout the entire series, Peach never once expresses a desire for marriage. Even during the proposal, he never gives a clear “yes.” Thee simply takes his hand, slides the ring on, and lets the drones announce a “yes” that was never spoken. This isn’t consent; it’s narrative coercion at its finest.
The show has come full circle, but in the worst way possible—returning to the power imbalances of Episode 1, where Thee first violated Peach’s boundaries. The only difference now is that this time the script expects us to swoon.
(It’s no wonder Peach looks so emotionally checked out during the wedding. Jk. Lol.)
2. Kiss vs. Sex: Selective Respect for Consent
The finale contains a massive ethical lapse that ruins Thee’s character growth.
Throughout the series, Thee consistently asks for permission before kissing Peach—even after Peach tells him it’s no longer necessary. Thee’s insistence on asking demonstrated an understanding of consent as active, ongoing, and voluntary.
Yet, on their wedding night, he tells Peach: “We’re married, so I won’t ask. You belong to me now.”
It frames marriage as the end of autonomy rather than a partnership, undoing all the healthy progress they had made.
Marriage isn’t a loophole for consent. It doesn’t give one person the right to another’s body. Consent must always be freely given, specific, reversible, and enthusiastic—especially when it comes to sex, which involves much deeper emotional and psychological vulnerabilities than a kiss.
Consent is a continuous conversation, not a one-time contract sealed by a ceremony. A wedding ring is a symbol of commitment, but it is never a “blanket pass” for intimacy. Being married doesn’t mean you stop asking for a “yes.”
The distinction Peach makes earlier—that there is implied consent for kissing—is entirely reasonable. However, the show completely flips this logic. Thee asks for consent for the lower-risk act (kissing) but then behaves as though consent is unnecessary for the higher-risk act (sex). This isn’t just a lapse in logic; it’s ethically precarious. It creates a narrative in which the most vulnerable moments are handled with the least respect for agency.
Modern law and ethics recognize marital rape specifically because, historically, spouses were treated as property. Rape is defined by the absence of consent, regardless of whether there is a ring on someone’s finger. To suggest that marriage makes consent “unnecessary” is to weaponize intimacy.
What makes this especially troubling is that Thee clearly understands the concept of consent; he simply chooses to abandon it once marriage gives him a sense of perceived entitlement. This regresses his character to a mindset rooted in power and ownership rather than love.
Me and Thee isn’t “dark romance.”
Dark romance requires internal consistency. If the series were openly about power imbalances (like ABO dynamics or Fifty Shades) the audience would interpret it through that lens. However, Me and Thee explicitly established consent as its moral framework. By violating that framework at the finish line, the show isn’t being “daring”; it’s being inconsistent. It traded its moral compass for a cheap finale trope, and the result is a story that no longer knows what it stands for.
3. Adoption as a “Gift”: Decision-Making Without Partnership
The adoption subplot repeats the same troubling pattern of erased consent.
Adoption isn’t a romantic gesture or a surprise gift; it’s a lifelong responsibility that must be a mutual decision, especially within a marriage. Because Peach is a survivor of the system himself, his involvement should have been the priority. Making this decision on his behalf robs him of his agency in a matter that is deeply personal. It turns a life-altering commitment into a one-sided surprise.
The finale fails to distinguish between a surprise and a violation of autonomy. Framing the adoption as a gift doesn’t change the fact that Peach was given no say in the matter. A true partnership is built on collaborative agency, yet here Peach is treated as a passive recipient of Thee’s whims. Within the span of a single episode, Peach is blindsided into both marriage and fatherhood without a single conversation. Regardless of the legalities, the emotional breach is undeniable. By making life-altering decisions unilaterally, the narrative solidifies a toxic dynamic: it’s Thee’s world, and Peach is simply expected to live in it. It suggests that Peach’s only role is to assimilate into whatever life Thee chooses for him.
Why narrative integrity matters?
When a finale contradicts its own themes, it sends dangerous mixed signals about power and consent. This isn’t about being “prude,” it’s about wanting a story to be consistent and to respect its viewers. This finale wasn’t progress; it was a thematic U-turn. By returning to the power imbalances of the beginning, the show betrayed its own thesis.
Notes:
¹In Episode 6, Mok explains to Peach why Thee and Rome were forbidden from celebrating birthdays: it’s about security and secrecy. Regular events like birthdays create predictable routines, and in their world, predictability is an invitation for assassination. While small, private family gatherings occasionally happen—which explains why Thee and Peach’s wedding was so understated—the real world usually demands a higher price. A mafia family’s survival depends on invisibility, and every celebration is a potential security breach.
²In Episode 1 (Silhouette) and Episode 4 (Depth of Field), Thee explicitly states that he can’t be photographed. It all comes down to survival through anonymity. In his world, photos and videos are permanent evidence, and staying off the grid is his only real protection from rivals. We see the consequences of fame with his mother, whose public life puts her at constant risk of assassination and kidnapping. For someone in Thee’s position, being a ghost isn’t just a preference; it’s a security necessity.
My god some of you is too woke to watch those shows, creating all those issues over a comedy show. Peach knew what it’s going on when he went on that roof. Look at his face, how he smiles the entire time. The “will you marry me” and “yes” was inplied in the “Do you love me?” question Thee asked him. He knew what it means when he said yes. Actually Peach never answered Thee if he wants to date him. They just had sex after the question. It’s just the way Peach operate. He doesn’t say “yes” but he show it. And that line about not asking anymore because they are married doesn’t mean lack of consent. It means he see Peach is comfortable and more open now. He finally kissed first and did that when Thee was trying to ask again if he can kiss him. Which for me it’s showing that he has enough of that asking. And Thee understand it. They are married, happy, Peach trust him and wants him as much as he wants him so what’s the point of asking. For me it’s so easy to understand. And you take that mafia part way too seriously. Even Thee’s father called him pretend mafia. In the novel as far as I know, Thee managed to free himself from the mafia part of the family and just be businessmen. The same happened in the show. But it’s really really showed that much. No one really cares about that mafia plot. We as audience only care about romance. Like the show doesn’t take themself seriously. So why do you? Sometimes it’s really not that serious. Like bringing marital rape and all of that? Over a silly show? There’s so many really problematic bls but you choose to nitpick this one.
