Enjoying the show? Support our mission and help keep the content coming by buying us a coffee: https://buymeacoffee.com/deepdivepodcastCould you be tricked into dating a Prince? A decade ago, the reality show I Want to Marry Harry put that fairy tale to the test with one of the most audacious lies in TV history. Today, a new show shares the same name, but the game is completely different. The shift between these two shows tells us everything about how reality, entertainment, and our culture have fundamentally changed in just ten years.
The premise was simple and diabolical: take 12 American women to a gorgeous English castle and convince them they were competing for the affections of Prince Harry. The lie was Matthew Hicks, a completely normal oil-spill cleaner who merely looked like the Prince. The show was a meticulously crafted psychological operation designed to build a perfect illusion. Producers put Hicks through royal boot camp, flew him in on a helicopter flanked by security, and even brought in a fake therapist to brainwash the contestants, telling them their doubts were just paranoia.
After all that manipulation, the experiment failed spectacularly: Fox canceled the show after only four episodes due to abysmal ratings. Nobody was buying the fairy tale.
Fast forward a decade and a new show, Marry Harry, is asking women to compete for a guy named Harry Jowsey—and this time, nobody is being tricked. Jowsey is not pretending to be royal; he is famous for being famous, a professional reality TV star and influencer with millions of followers.
The shift between the two Harrisons reveals everything:
The Old Prize: A guy pretending to have status, whose value was based on a lie.
The New Prize: A guy whose status is 100% real in the world of influencers. His value is his follower count.
Today's audience comes armed with cynicism, immediately clocking Jowsey as a "known character" and a "clown" with "zero belief that he's actually in it for love." The ultimate prize has changed from fairy tale romance to clout and proximity to fame.
In 2014, the producers were actively tricking the contestants. But today, the contestants, the star, and the audience know the game—the show is produced by Alex Cooper's company, literally named "Unwell." Has the deception really gone away? Or has the target shifted? Maybe the new illusion is no longer meant for the people on screen. Perhaps the new fantasy—the lie that any of this is actually about love—is being sold directly to us, the viewer.
The Original Lie (2014)The New Reality (Present Day)
