‘Sex Education’ Season 3: Will Adam Groff Ever Find Happiness?

Hurt people hurt people. And over the course of three seasons of Netflix’s Sex Education, it has become clear that Adam Groff is hurting. Groff, played to perfection by Connor Swindells, was once the biggest bully at Moordale Secondary, the fictional high school, a.k.a. “sex school”, featured in the show. Actually, scratch that, Adam’s father Michael was the biggest bully of them all, the strict Head Teacher at the school who ruled the school with authoritarianism and whose manipulation was fueled by a drawer full of Cadbury Flake Bars before he was removed from his post last season.

Both Groffs, each one skilled at antagonizing the students at Moordale in their own ways, used Sex Education Season 3 to self-improve. After Michael, played by Alistair Petrie, was stripped of his job and his marriage, he was forced to live with his pompous and absolutely terrible older brother, Peter. As the elder Groff, Jason Isaacs — who hasn’t been this despicable since he played Lucius Malfoy — played his part to exposit exactly for why the Groff men are who they are. A brutal bully, he mocks and emasculates on his brother, learned traits passed on from their father. When Michael finally realizes that his own cruelty and coldness were defense mechanisms, all he wants to do is reconcile with his wife, Maureen, and son Adam, both of whom have been affected by his discontent and victimization for years. And while Michael finally realizes in mid-life where the roots of his problems lie, young Adam, who is a gay man who was only ever taught how to exist in a cis-het society, is struggling to figure out his own identity. In Adam, Swindells has created a multi-faceted gem of a character who, it seems, may never let himself shine.

In Season 1, Adam was a bully who had very few academic prospects and whose only power existed by intimidating others. It has become clear that Adam, friendless and unsupported by those close to him, was lashing out because it was all he knew how to do. His main victim, Eric, played by the incredible Ncuti Gatwa, was only ever his target because Adam wanted to be closer to him. Eric, gay and proud and ultimately unable to hide who he is despite coming from a conservative Nigerian family, was a symbol of everything Adam could never be. As shocking as it seemed, when the two had a physical fight that ended in a kiss at the end of Season 1, Eric became the one person Adam could trust and be his true self with. That’s why in Season 3, as the relationship between the two of them thrives (despite jealousy thrown at Adam from Rahim, Eric’s old flame), there’s always a lingering uncertainty in the relationship. Eric cares for Adam, but he’s obviously more at ease with himself and his sexuality and doesn’t need Adam the way that Adam needs him.

Adam conveys more with silence than with his words — he’s not a poet after all — and Swindells’ face is a window into his world. Adam has been taught that the only way to be a man is to live by the Elsa model: “conceal, don’t feel.” By never letting Adam cry, Swindells emotes only with the slightest pursing of his lips or twitch of his cheek, every millimeter of movement a significant, and sometimes devastating, change on the emotional spectrum. While Adam’s desperate to break free of the cycle of toxic masculinity he’s been brought up in, even when he’s at his lowest, standing on a bridge after Eric leaves him, he cannot, will not even bring himself to shed a tear (it’s okay, Adam, I did it for you).

More tragic than his ability to let out his sadness is his inability to be happy. We know that there are only two great joys in Adam’s life: the Kardashians and his dog, Madame, the one living being in his life who loves him unconditionally. When Adam enters Madame into a dog show and reluctantly invites his mother to watch, despite receiving an honorable mention in the show, it’s heartbreaking to watch him explain to his mother that he knows his dad would be disappointed by the results. Time and time again, Adam has taken responsibility for the terrible actions of others (claiming that Rahim’s poop sock was his, having marijuana planted on him at military school which led to his expulsion). He thinks he’s a failure who may as well absorb all the failures of others because no one expects any better of him, never seeing the merit in the selflessness of his actions. Adam’s growth as a character hasn’t been all that surprising, as the seeds of his goodness have been planted along the course of three seasons, and along the way he has shown his true self to plenty of people: Eric, Rahim, Ms. Sands, and even his fellow Khloe-lover Ruby. But he’s still punishing himself for the person he used to be, a person that was never his true self. My only wish is that in Sex Education Season 4, somehow, someone lets Adam in on the secret that he’s a good person. Maybe then he’ll allow himself to be happy. I need that for him.

Liz Kocan is a pop culture writer living in Massachusetts. Her biggest claim to fame is the time she won on the game show Chain Reaction.