The Real Reason Women Are Breaking Up With Their Boyfriends After Watching Romantic TV Shows

With the rise of emotionally charged TV like Bridgerton, The Summer I Turned Pretty, and Heated Rivalry, women are quietly—but decisively—recalibrating how they view romantic relationships with men. What used to feel like “too much” is undoubtedly the bare minimum.

In late 2025, reports circulated that Conrad Fisher of The Summer I Turned Pretty had inspired women to break up with their real-life boyfriends. The internet, predictably, treated this like a joke—another case of women being “too influenced” by fiction. But when you listen to what these women were actually saying, it becomes clear this wasn’t about Conrad himself. It was about comparison.

The show leans unapologetically into intense longing, being chosen, being desired out loud, and grand, emotionally expressive love. It depicts men who ache, hesitate, spiral, and ultimately risk something to be with the woman they want. That kind of devotion reads as fantasy largely because we’ve normalized so little effort in real life. We live in a cultural moment where the bar is underground—where a man planning a date feels like a novelty worth texting the group chat about.

For many women, stories like Heated Rivalry and Bridgerton didn’t invent new desires; they exposed absences. A lack of overt affection. A lack of pursuit. A lack of enthusiasm. These stories center prioritization—being chosen loudly, even when it’s inconvenient or socially complicated. The characters don’t hedge. They don’t keep one foot out the door. And crucially, they aren’t punished for wanting intensity. They’re rewarded.

That’s what hit so hard. Viewers were left mourning—not just relationships they never had, but versions of themselves who once accepted less. Times they made themselves smaller. Times they were told to be “chill,” “realistic,” or “low-maintenance,” as if desire were a personality flaw. In these narratives, women aren’t grateful for scraps. They expect fullness—and get it.

After I finished Heated Rivalry, my TikTok algorithm showed me related reels—many of them edits of Ilya or Shane—but one stopped me cold. It asked: “Does anyone else feel this pit of grief and sadness after finishing this? Like it made you realize you’ve never felt emotions like this, maybe ever?”

The comments were brutal in their honesty. People described feeling depressed, hollowed out, undone. One wrote, “Dating is so hard and the thought of falling for someone like this feels like pure fantasy.” Another said, “It’s a heavy burden to realize fictional men written by women will never exist for the vast majority of us. Settling for a life of mediocrity is a gut punch.” This wasn’t melodrama—it was collective grief.

And this reckoning doesn’t stay theoretical. It shows up in real relationships.

When my partner and I celebrated our first Valentine’s Day together, I was upset he didn’t get me flowers. When I told him, he said he was “erring on the side of caution.” I was stunned. Because erring on the side of caution would have been flowers, chocolates, a card, maybe even something slightly embarrassing—because you wanted to make sure I felt loved, seen, and appreciated on a holiday dedicated to romance. If I’m spending Valentine’s Day with someone, it means I take them seriously. And I expect that seriousness to be reflected back to me.

When I told a male friend about women breaking up with their boyfriends after The Summer I Turned Pretty finale, he rolled his eyes and thought it was ridiculous. But what’s actually ridiculous is how often men refuse to step up—and then act shocked when women opt out. What’s ridiculous is that basic emotional effort is dismissed as fantasy. That yearning, planning, devotion, and vulnerability are treated like fictional traits rather than learnable behaviors.

To the majority of men out there, I ask this sincerely: why wouldn’t you use this as a learning opportunity? The material is right there. These stories function almost like instructional manuals for what women are missing and what they want more of. Not perfection—presence. Not mind-reading—effort. Not grand gestures every day—intentionality.

Romance didn’t die because women watched too much TV. Romance died because effort became optional, and indifference became cool. And women, finally, are deciding they’d rather be alone than be unimpressed.