This headline prompts an obvious question: Were there any good men on Sex and the City? The answer, by the way, is yes: Steve was good. Harry was good. The dude Carrie met by a fountain in season two seemed nice. 

The list, however, basically ends there, which is why we’ve decided to commemorate the 25th anniversary of HBO’s signature romantic comedy—and the upcoming second season of the sequel series And Just Like That…, coming to Max on June 22—by debating which disappointing beau made us cringe the most. We’ll start with the man who, objectively, was probably the biggest jerk of all. (Puns!)

Mr. Big (Chris Noth)

Big is a lie. That’s the fundamental premise of his character; he’s fantasy more than fact, a collection of assumed masculine poses that do not add up to a coherent human being. Big is the longest-running romantic interest in Sex and the City, because he’s designed to be the perfect terrible choice for Carrie—enticing, addictive, but ultimately bad for her. And yes, Big sucks—he leads her on, dumps her terribly, marries someone else, draws her into an affair when she’s happily coupled with Aidan, encourages her to pick up smoking again, and throughout the series chides her for not being more acquiescent to his feelings while gently trampling all over hers. That Noth plays this financially and sexually entitled man so well distracts from the fact that he’s not a Casanova, but a parasite. And Just Like That did us a favor by killing him via Peloton in the very first episode. —Sonia Saraiya

Skipper Johnston (Ben Weber)

Years before the term “Nice Guy” became online shorthand for a man who expects his acts of basic human decency to be rewarded with sex, there was Skipper, one of only two love interests to appear in the first episode of Sex and the City and later show up again (the other, of course, is Mr. Big). He spent all of his screen time bemoaning the fact that he was too nice to get women; when he did date one, it was Miranda, the character most likely to see through his bullshit. He was perhaps the most realistic male character to appear on the show, poorly dressed with an un-glamorous job—but if Sex and the City gave bonus points for realism, Berger wouldn’t be on this list, either. Skipper was phased out by the end of season two, when he reappeared to lick his wounds over being dumped one last time. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. —Katey Rich

Aleksandr Petrovsky (Mikhail Baryshnikov)

It was obvious from the moment Aleksandr Petrovsky appeared that he was so good, he could only be Sex and the City’s worst man of all. A world-famous artist with soulful Slavic eyes, an endless supply of caviar, and an enormous Manhattan loft, Petrovsky swooped in on Carrie like a custom-built romantic fantasy. He whipped up fancy dinners, bought her designer gowns, and took Carrie riding in a horse-drawn sleigh in the snow. (In a particularly New York spin on perfection, he also proved his manly prowess by slaying a mouse in her apartment with a frying pan.) But anyone could see that Petrovsky wanted to lock Carrie in a gilded cage (a gorgeous one designed by the best blacksmith in Paris, but still) and throw away the key. Only a dude this narcissistic could make Big look like a good choice. —Joy Press

Jack Berger (Ron Livingston)

Ugh. Ugh! Berger. The humor writer was perhaps Carrie’s most memorably awful breakup, but his crimes against humanity started well before the Post-it affair. There was the obnoxious Sharper Image sound machine, left over from his previous ex, Lauren. Then came the Great Scrunchie Battle of 2003, which began when Carrie dared to gently tease her beau about a single sentence in his new novel; no matter how she praised the rest of the book, it wasn’t enough to stop Berger from shutting down and licking his wounds in that insufferably bitter, Berger-y way. Then Carrie’s own book began to take off just as Berger’s publisher dropped him, prompting a new parade of insecurities. Carrie, unaware that Berger’s career had hit a roadblock, bought him a Prada shirt—and he repaid her by making her fear for her life on a crazed motorcycle ride, because apparently professional success is a major turnoff to him. Their wild ride was followed by emotional unavailability, another reconciliation, and finally—just when Carrie thought they’d worked through their issues!—the infamous Post-it note, left in the middle of the night as Berger snuck out like the coward he always was. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.” Oh, Berger. You left us no choice. —Laura Bradley

Trey MacDougal (Kyle MacLachlan)

“You are the man who gave me a cardboard baby,” Charlotte shrieks after receiving a particularly insensitive gag gift from her sexually and—let’s face it—emotionally impotent first husband, Trey MacDougal. The ill-advised cutout—which he gave to Charlotte when they were struggling to conceive a child—was the final death knell for a relationship that was dead upon “I do.” On paper, the Park Avenue cardiologist with a megawatt smile offered Charlotte exactly the Waspy, wedded bliss she had long been craving. But Trey wound up being an impressionable boy dressed in grown-up clothing, swayed with a single arm grab into proposing (never forget his flippant, frequent refrain of “alrighty”), obsessed with satisfying every whim of his brutal, duck-worshipping mother, Bunny (Frances Sternhagen). After all the anguish he caused, Trey’s cold, blue-blooded heart couldn’t even face Charlotte during their divorce; instead, he deployed Bunny to do his bidding. And if that didn’t convince you of Trey’s dishonor, I leave you with one chilling word: VapoRub. —Savannah Walsh

Aidan Shaw (John Corbett)

“But he’s so nice!” “He’s so handy!” “He has a dog!” I have heard your pro-Aidan arguments, and they will not move me. Aidan Shaw is bullshit and will remain bullshit, for as long as his five almost-empty deodorants gather dust on a bathroom shelf. (So, forever.) Deceptively gentle Aidan saunters into Carrie’s life offering easy, uncomplicated intimacy. But before long, it becomes clear that his affection comes with strings: Quit smoking. Don’t go out so much. Spend weekends at my un-air-conditioned Deliverance shack. Don’t cheat on me with your married ex-boyfriend. Rules, rules, rules! He doesn’t love Carrie; he loves the Franken-Carrie he hopes to mold her into, someone just as dull and corny as he is. And even if Carrie is no prize herself, she deserves a man whose awfulness complements her own, rather than clashing with it. I shudder to think what havoc he and his dopey-ass voice will wreak when And Just Like That returns for its second season. —Hillary Busis

Vaughn Wysel (Justin Theroux)

Theroux’s second appearance on the show finds him playing Vaughn, a writer love interest for Carrie who seems good, well, on paper. He’s handsome; he’s a successful, respected novelist; and he has a great family, who take to Carrie instantly. She quickly forms a bond with Vaughn’s mother, a frank human-sexuality academic (a great, earthy turn by Valerie Harper) who really gets Carrie’s work in a way few others do. But as is so often the case on this show, Vaughn eventually reveals a critical fault, one alluded to by the episode’s title, “Shortcomings.” When Carrie gently confronts Vaughn about his quick-to-finish bedroom performance, Vaughn freaks out, revealing the petulant, fragile ego that can lurk in even the supposedly most enlightened of men. A cranky, babyish jerk, Vaughn costs Carrie a relationship with an older mentor/mother figure who could have done wonderful things for her. In essence, he denied Carrie her Magda. —Richard Lawson

Richard Wright (James Remar)

This man had the audacity to lift his sweaty face from betwixt another woman’s thighs and tell Samantha, “It’s just sex.” Open and shut case, right? Or should I continue running down his laundry list of dirtbag excellence? Let’s start with the fact that every recurring boyfriend on Sex and the City got a charming introduction. But Richard Wright was introduced in season four as a slick hotel magnate interviewing Samantha for a potential publicity gig, then rejecting her by saying women are “so . . . emotional.” Then he makes her cry! He is the human embodiment of the double standard, all of Samantha’s worst qualities bottled up in a raspy villain. Not only is his arc enraging, but he also resurfaces in season six to derail Sam’s relationship with Absolut Hunk™ Smith Jerrod. In retrospect, it’s easy to see why Richard wears the same damn outfit in every single episode—because some fools never change. —Yohana Desta

Seth (Jon Bon Jovi)

This is going to seem petty, because Seth only shows up once and has less than a handful of scenes. But that brevity is half the injury—and his appearance perfectly encapsulates the problem with most of the men on this show. Context: it’s late season two. Carrie has just broken up with Big, and is—predictably—being a little insufferable about it. So her dear friends all suggest she seek out therapy, and in her therapist’s waiting room, she meets Seth: another patient, whose shampoo-commercial mane is frankly irresistible. He chooses—keyword: chooses—to flirt with her. They go out to dinner. They come back to Carrie’s place. They . . . play Twister? And after sex, Carrie makes the mistake of asking him why he’s in therapy. The answer, of course, is that he’s horrible to women: he sleeps with them once and loses interest. What happens next is obvious: Carrie stops going to therapy. She walks away feeling like her problem is that she chooses the wrong men—rather than that she’d been deliberately led on by someone who had no intention of seeing her again. It’s a perfect little reminder that, for her (lovable) folly, Carrie is often a victim of bad intentions. She’s openhearted, sincere, genuinely in love with love. But the men of New York? Not so much. —K. Austin Collins

Anthony Marantino (Mario Cantone)

I know what you’re thinking: How could Anthony, the loudmouth event planner and gay best friend of Charlotte, rank among one of the worst men on Sex and the City? Aren’t there a plethora of terrible (terrible!) other men to choose from? But hear me out. Anthony’s funny, for sure. Loyal? To a fault. But he’s also mean-spirited and incredibly shallow. Lest we forget, he spent season after season rejecting and rudely negging one of the very best men on Sex and the City, Stanford Blatch—played by the late, great Willie Garson—because Anthony wasn’t attracted to him. The thing about Anthony is that he’s an incredibly accurate depiction of how vapid and shallow (some) gay men can be. But just because he holds a mirror up to society doesn’t mean we have to like the way it looks! And while Anthony himself can’t be blamed for the major missteps of the Sex and the City movies, he was directly involved in one of their biggest transgressions: Anthony and Stanford randomly and head-scratchingly winding up together. (Thank goodness Stanford divorced his ass and moved to Tokyo in And Just Like That…) At the end of the day, it’s no surprise Anthony’s best female friend is also the worst of the iconic foursome. (Sorry, but it’s true.) —Chris Murphy