“Princess Treatment”: Romance as Reparations in the Age of American Narcissism
Monday, July 7, 2025.
Once upon a time, a girl wanted to be loved.
Then she wanted to be worshipped.
Now she wants her Amazon wishlist fulfilled by Tuesday, three affirmation texts a day, and a boyfriend who opens her car door and processes his childhood trauma.
Welcome to the era of the Princess Treatment—a glitter-soaked relationship meme that asks, “What if love felt like concierge service?” and answers, “Only peasants pay for their own parking.”
At first glance, it seems like harmless romantic fantasy.
At second glance, a hyperfeminine rebellion against hookup culture.
But at third (and let’s admit, most nasty) glance, is it a shimmering mirror held up to the bloated face of American Cultural Narcissism?
Not so fast. We can see this in a much kinder light.
The Meme That Crowned a Movement
The "Princess Treatment" meme saturates TikTok and Instagram like a modern-day fairy tale told in selfies, story times, and soft-focus hotel lobbies.
Creators like @FemininityQueen_, @PinkPillGuru, and @ThatDollLife don't just want kindness—they want curated devotion: flowers for no reason, spa days as love languages, and men who make them feel “chosen every morning like breakfast in Versailles.”
Meanwhile, tradwife influencers such as Nara Smith, the impossibly elegant wife of model Lucky Blue Smith, quietly echo the same message—but dressed in linen and dipped in sourdough starter.
Their version of princesshood trades Amazon hauls for 1950s aesthetics and softly-lit content about serving your husband raw milk and respect in equal measure.
But both strands—glam princess and soft tradwife—are threaded by the same cultural plea: "If I display enough feminine energy, will I finally be adored?"
American Narcissism in Blush Tones
We live in a country that has outsourced emotional labor to Instagram quotes and adult coloring books.
In our hyper-individualist culture that commodifies everything—grief, mindfulness, even authenticity—it's not surprising that love, too, has become a subscription service.
Psychologists Twenge and Campbell (2009) famously warned that American society was sliding into a “narcissism epidemic.”
But what they didn’t predict was that narcissism would start dressing up as empowerment. Or that the princess crown would become a coping mechanism. Is that what’s happening here?
“The demand to be treated ‘like a princess’ can be seen as a response to chronic disappointment in intimacy—a culturally sanctioned overcorrection,” says researcher W. Keith Campbell (2023, p. 89). “It reflects both wounded entitlement and desperate compensation.”
In other words, not so fast with the narcissism spin. Some women are not being spoiled—they're trying to fill a hole in their soul shaped like “unmet needs since 2003.”
Princesshood as Counter-Narrative
In fairness, the Princess Treatment isn't exclusively about narcissism.
It's also about survival. After decades of Lean In, hookup culture, and performative cool-girl feminism, many women are exhausted by the mandate to expect less and settle faster. That girl-boss sh*t now smells like spoiled milk.
Recent research suggests that emotional neglect in early life probably influences adult romantic expectations, especially in women ( Nowakowski, McFarlane, & Cassin, 2022).
What looks like superficial pampering might actually be an attempt to externalize self-worth in a culture that rarely confirms it. I get that. Let’s not always frame that as narcissism.
Meanwhile, Porges’ Polyvagal Theory reminds us that safety is the foundation for connection (Porges, 2011).
The princess treatment meme may be cloying, but underneath it hums a biologically accurate truth: when we feel safe and adored, we regulate better, love more generously, and trust more deeply.
So maybe the rose petals on the hotel bed are less about luxury, and more about nervous system repair.
A Satire of Masculinity Too
Let’s not forget about the men, please..
The princess meme’s shadow twin is the “provider king”—a figure who not only bankrolls the fantasy, but posts about it with gym selfies and captions like “Real men provide. Real women submit.”
In this mutual cosplay, both parties perform a curated vintage romance while quietly DMing their therapists.
The result? A culture that mistakes aesthetic harmony for emotional intimacy.
The Science of “Princessification”
Here’s an inconvenient truth. Emerging research supports the notion that romantic idealization—as long as it’s mutual—can be psychologically protective.
In fact, a 2021 meta-analysis found that couples who viewed each other in idealized terms had higher long-term satisfaction, even accounting for stress (Fletcher, Simpson, & Campbell, 2021).
But the line between idealization and objectification is arguably thin.
When the “Princess” becomes a brand—something to be achieved or offered up for TikTok validation—it risks ceasing to be about intimacy and more about display.
And display, in a narcissistic culture, is the coin of the realm.
A Working Hypothesis: Romance as Reparations
Let’s be honest. American women, especially in their 20s and 30s, are carrying:
More student debt than ever (Houle & Addo, 2019)
More unpaid caregiving labor (Bianchi et al., 2012)
More aesthetic pressure (Perloff, 2014)
Less certainty that a partner will match their emotional fluency (Sandberg, 2020)
The Princess Treatment meme, as I see it, is a romantic reparation fantasy: “If I have to be everything—beautiful, supportive, ambitious, self-healing—then he better show up like it’s the goddamn Coronation of Elizabeth II.”
Or at least like a man who understands Venmo.
A Final Blessing and a Caution
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel special. Ritualized affection is one of the great joys of human life. But as another great poet Ada Limón once quipped, “We are all just trying to get to the good part without doing the dishes.”
So wear your crown.
But remember: the real test of love is not the roses—it’s who shows up when the tiara’s crooked and the credit card is maxed.
Be Well, Stay Kind, and Godspeed.
REFERENCES:
Bianchi, S. M., Sayer, L. C., Milkie, M. A., & Robinson, J. P. (2012). Housework: Who did, does or will do it, and how much does it matter? Social Forces, 91(1), 55–63. https://doi.org/10.1093/sf/sos120
Fletcher, G. J. O., Simpson, J. A., & Campbell, L. (2021). The idealization of partners in close relationships: A meta-analysis. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 121(3), 459–483. https://doi.org/10.1037/pspi0000354
Houle, J. N., & Addo, F. R. (2019). Racial disparities in student debt and the reproduction of the racial wealth gap. Sociology of Race and Ethnicity, 5(4), 562–577. https://doi.org/10.1177/2332649218790989
Nowakowski, M. E., McFarlane, T., & Cassin, S. E. (2022). Gender differences in alexithymia: A meta-analytic review. Personality and Individual Differences, 194, 111666. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.paid.2022.111666
Perloff, R. M. (2014). Social media effects on young women’s body image concerns: Theoretical perspectives and an agenda for research. Sex Roles, 71(11), 363–377. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11199-014-0384-6
Porges, S. W. (2011). The polyvagal theory: Neurophysiological foundations of emotions, attachment, communication, and self-regulation. W. W. Norton & Company.
Sandberg, S. (2020). Option B: Facing adversity, building resilience, and finding joy. Knopf.
Twenge, J. M., & Campbell, W. K. (2009). The narcissism epidemic: Living in the age of entitlement. Free Press.