Anyone who has to have the word 'charming' in their name probably

In the words of Sarah Pinborough, “Anyone who has to have the word ‘charming’ in their name probably isn’t — just take a look at any dating site where men use ‘Prince Charming’ in their description.” — there rings both humor and truth, wrapped in the wit of experience. Beneath the laughter of her words lies an ancient wisdom: that true virtue does not announce itself, and that those who must proclaim their goodness, purity, or nobility are often the ones most in need of proving it. Pinborough, a writer whose stories often unveil the shadows behind fairy tales, draws our attention here to the illusion of appearances, to the deceit that hides beneath the promise of perfection.

From the earliest myths, humankind has been warned of this — that what shines brightest is not always what is true. The ancients told tales of gods and men who adorned themselves with titles and trophies, seeking admiration before understanding. Yet, the wise knew that character reveals itself through action, not declaration. A man who must call himself “charming” confesses through that very claim that he is not; for genuine charm, like light, needs no proclamation — it simply radiates. Pinborough’s jest about “Prince Charming” on dating sites becomes, therefore, a parable for our age of surfaces, where self-advertisement often replaces substance, and the pursuit of attention masquerades as authenticity.

Consider the story of Narcissus, the youth of Greek legend who gazed so long at his reflection that he drowned in his own image. His tragedy was not vanity alone, but blindness — the inability to see beyond the surface of himself. In every “Prince Charming” who boasts of his charm, there lives a little of Narcissus: a man enamored not with love itself, but with how he appears to others. The danger, as Pinborough warns, is not only for the boastful, but for those who believe them. For to be seduced by self-proclaimed virtue is to mistake appearance for truth, and in that mistake, one invites disappointment and deception.

True charm, the ancients would say, is born of kalos kai agathos — beauty joined with goodness, not declared but demonstrated. The noble man or woman does not shout of their qualities; they live them, quietly, consistently, with humility. When a person must brand themselves as “charming,” “honest,” or “loyal,” they turn the sacred into spectacle, and the genuine into performance. It is like a counterfeit coin, polished to gleam, but hollow in its worth. Pinborough, in her sharp simplicity, reminds us to look beyond the polish, to see what lies beneath the claim.

The origin of her words lies not only in modern irony but in timeless human experience. Throughout history, the powerful and deceitful have cloaked their ambitions in noble words — kings declaring themselves just, tyrants calling themselves saviors, and flatterers masking manipulation with courtesy. The playwright Shakespeare, master of unveiling hypocrisy, understood this truth well. In Macbeth, he warned that “false face must hide what the false heart doth know.” Those who trumpet their virtue too loudly often do so to drown out the whisper of their conscience. So too, in love and friendship, we must be wary of those who sell an image rather than show a soul.

There is, however, no cynicism in Pinborough’s observation — only discernment. She does not say that charm itself is false, but that the need to advertise it betrays a lack of confidence in its reality. The truly kind, the truly charming, the truly loving — these souls need no label. Their presence, their deeds, their words reveal their essence naturally, without force. Like a rose that does not shout to be noticed, but simply blooms, true character invites recognition by its fragrance, not its announcement.

So, dear listener, let this quote serve as a guide for both how to see and how to be. Seek substance over spectacle, depth over display. Be wary of those who must constantly tell you who they are, for truth is quiet, and pretense is loud. When you meet those who speak less and act more, who need no title to define their worth, cherish them — for they are rare as gold in an age of glitter. And in your own life, strive not to brand yourself with virtues, but to embody them, silently, steadfastly, until your actions speak louder than any word you could proclaim.

For in the end, as Sarah Pinborough reminds us, the real “Prince Charming” is never the man who calls himself so — it is the one who simply shows up, listens, and loves without needing to declare his greatness. Let your goodness be like that: unadvertised, unwavering, and unmistakable. For the world has enough self-proclaimed princes; what it needs are souls who live with quiet grace, whose charm is not in their name, but in their heart.