Do we choose our partners based on prestige and social status?

On October 3rd, he asked me what day it was. I think of that iconic line every time I mention my first boyfriend—more of an obsession than a real love. A. was a tennis player; I was an outsider. He had quite the track record with the most popular girls in town, while I still hadn’t even had my first kiss. A (not so) typical nerd, absorbed in ballet, Lady Gaga, and fashion experiments far outside the strictly drawn social lines of our peers—which certainly didn’t make me appealing to boys. But A., in the teenage reality of things, was more Nate Archibald than Chuck Bass: a two-meter-tall golden retriever boy, long-haired, pure-hearted, and soft inside. I desperately wanted to reach that little trace of stardust. We kissed at the end of the summer—the year Twilight and The Fame Monster came out—and almost a decade later, I carried a label that could today be seen as the prototype of a throning queen—and not in a flattering sense.

What does “throning” mean?

(Verb) A social phenomenon in which a person dates someone primarily for their social status, popularity, or influence, rather than genuine attraction or personal connection.

The latest dating term—throning—according to Gen Z’s definition, means dating someone solely because of their social status. It’s seen as a modern byproduct of our obsession with the illusion and delusion of social media, success, and prestige, where even partners start being viewed as status symbols. From everyone wanting to become influencers and celebrities, it naturally followed that everyone now wants to date influencers and celebrities. Think of it as the fake it till you make it principle—but on an even shallower level. The essence of it is that you place the person you’re dating on a pedestal—or rather, a throne, which is where the term comes from. There’s a lot of overlap here with the idea of high-value dating, which encourages “high-value” individuals to seek partners of similar rank—where that “value” is most often measured by looks, money, and follower count. When someone thrones you, they’re attracted to what you have or what you represent, not who you truly are. You become something like a trophy—or a fashion accessory—meant to make them look more desirable.

Photo: Allstar

A new term, an old meaning

The truth is, as a society, we’ve gone astray—on a much deeper level than dating alone. And I’m aware I’ll sound like my parents when I say this, but back in my day, everything revolved around fantasy: naïve daydreams and scenarios that, apart from testing one’s own limits (and possibilities), carried no hidden agenda. Throning today doesn’t just mean you’ll be drawn to the most attractive guy in the room (in fact, I hope that with age and maturity, we’ve reached a point where that’s exactly the guy who won’t attract you), but that you’ll project onto him everything you lack and desire—which is, from the start, a red flag for therapy and self-work. And without wanting to sound like Mel Robbins—if you’re not fourteen, it’s simply not acceptable to try to become someone through someone else.

Let’s be clear: the concept itself is far from new. Dating for “capital,” whether social, political, or financial, has existed for centuries before TikTok and Instagram—through dowries, dynasties, and diplomatic marriages. In many cultures throughout history, hypergamy—marrying “up”—meant moving into a higher social class and was even considered a desirable way to secure one’s future (think of the Bennet sisters from Pride and Prejudice, all seeking wealthy husbands). But we’re supposed to have evolved since then. Modern throning exposes the more specific—and highly toxic—aspects of dating culture. It’s about deliberately seeking partners who can offer us stability, opportunity, and a “better life”—which would be fair and logical if we ourselves were on that same level. What’s more, throning is conceptualized as short-term and driven entirely by appearances, rooted in how a relationship looks online or within social circles. Whether those people are truly happy is beside the point; what matters is that they look like they are.

Photo: Courtesy Focus Features

What’s the difference between throning and having healthy standards?

Do you wanna judge me, just a little bit? Not my style. Honestly, above and beneath everything in the 21st century, I believe everyone has the right to do whatever they want—as long as they’re not hurting anyone else. And relationships, let’s admit it, are a matter of mutual consent. In fact, this whole topic led me to an unpopular opinion: even though throning is considered a toxic relationship pattern, it does, in some ways, overlap with seemingly healthy approaches to dating—the ones that encourage us not to settle for less than we deserve and to choose partners who align with our values. In education, background, mindset, and lifestyle. But in that case, it’s about you being everything you’re looking for—the full package. There’s a big difference between wanting a partner who truly sees and values you, and using someone as an accessory to boost your own ego.

When you look for a partner who meets your standards in a healthy way, you’re actually choosing someone who shares your core values—someone with whom there’s real compatibility and the stability needed for a long-term, healthy relationship. In throning, however, the choice is made based on shallow criteria of status—looks, follower count, job title, social connections, or how that person can elevate your public image—even if you have none of that yourself. Throning is transactional and one-sided, while having high standards means knowing your worth and refusing to accept less than what you deserve.

And yet, even here, I often hear judgment. It doesn’t matter that we’ve built ourselves up for years—sometimes decades—fought our own battles, created our own lives, afforded everything we have today. If we have high standards, we’re still labeled materialistic. Blockbuster Materialists sent us exactly that message, wrapped in a good-intentioned but extremely black-and-white perspective: no matter how ambitious, smart, and accomplished we are, it’s apparently better to end up on a park bench with a hot dog and a broken boy (not because he’s broke, but because there’s no trace of light or ambition in him—just the delusion of being a victim) than with a man who’s been metaphorically lobotomized by the director’s will simply because he’s wealthy (Pedro, forgive us). Because, of course, the middle ground doesn’t exist—lower your standards, they say. Nothing bothers me more than false morality. Choosing someone similar to myself is, for me, a prerequisite for a healthy, functional relationship—a sign that I won’t have to diminish, silence, or shrink myself anymore like Kapor’s Sanja, trigger someone else’s insecurities, or live in constant conflict. And I refuse to settle for anything less, even if it means staying alone forever.

Photo: Courtesy Focus Features

In the end

The irony is that the throning phenomenon actually leaves people lonelier. According to a study published in Science Advances, those who constantly “aim too high” in dating “rarely receive responses from people who are 25% more desirable than themselves.” In other words, the more we chase status, the smaller our chances of forming a real, mutual connection. Gen Z often feels “pain, loneliness, and self-blame” while pursuing relationships they think they want. Because when you really think about it, throning means giving a chance to someone who might improve your self-image—instead of someone who might actually make you happy. I’ll always remind you of this: no one else can save or fulfill you but yourself. Social media is a carefully edited fragment of reality that lets us fill our inner voids with projections.

If you throne someone you don’t truly know, you may one day wake up and realize that no number of TikTok followers, fans, or digits in a bank account can replace a partner who makes you feel safe. Every relationship built on appearances will eventually collapse under the weight of real intimacy. And most importantly—you can’t build a genuine connection with someone you’ve practically invented. So, I won’t wish for you to choose a partner based on their income, apartment size, or shoe number. Instead, I’ll wish for you—as I do for myself—to climb that throne through your own effort, work, knowledge, and achievements, and become someone others would gladly throne. From that vantage point, you’ll have a much clearer perspective on what kind of partner you’re truly looking for—and what kind you deserve.