Systemic Male “Narcissism” - a Sales Tactic of Snake Oil Therapists

In today’s algorithm-driven attention economy, emotionally charged terminology has become one of the most profitable currencies—especially when it targets women in relational distress. We’ve reached a point where the most lucrative emotional clickbait often takes the form of teary-eyed male actors in short-form videos, delivering lines designed to resonate with nearly every woman who has ever felt unfulfilled in her relationship. And let’s be honest—that’s nearly all women at some point.

These men say things like:

• “He didn’t know how to truly encourage you.”

• “One day you’ll find a man who knows how to love you like you deserve, queen.”

• “You were stranded and robbed of your need to feel true love.”

• “You deserve to feel fulfilled and encouraged.”

• “Compassion and romance are the essence of truly strong men—the kind of men who help the woman in you bloom.”
  
  

This rhetoric is virtually endless—and predictably effective. The delivery is polished. The actor is handsome, often exuding sensitivity paired with masculinity. The female viewer, caught in a moment of doubt, thinks: “He’s so right! I wish I had heard this earlier. I always felt I did nothing wrong.”

These emotional hooks are not only intentionally vague and universally applicable, but they also absolve the viewer of all responsibility while transferring blame to a conveniently constructed villain: the emotionally unavailable, narcissistic, toxic man.

The same manipulative strategy appears in many modern forms of therapy—particularly female-targeted “healing” programs and coaching services. One of the most successful hooks is the classic diagnostic bait:

“Was your ex a toxic narcissist? We see you.”

This line triggers an automatic retrospective narrative in the listener. The woman scans her past for signs, and because the term narcissist has been diluted into meaning “any man who didn’t validate me perfectly,” the answer becomes an easy yes.

“Yes! Yes, he was a narcissist. I knew it! Of course I need your help!”

She clicks. She pays. She enters a feedback loop of victimhood and pseudo-healing—often for years.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth:
Not all therapy heals. Not all psychological support improves psychological health. In fact, several studies have shown that certain types of unstructured or ideologically biased therapy can reinforce negative cognitive patterns, increase blame-shifting, and even exacerbate borderline traits rather than resolve them (Lilienfeld, 2007; Westen et al., 2004).

In this article, we will expose the psychological mechanisms and sales tactics behind these modern “therapeutic” grifts and explain—based on real psychological science—why labeling men as systemic narcissists has become the modern snake oil of the breakup market.

Snake Oil Salesmen (and Saleswomen) in Therapy: The Myth of Systemic Male Narcissism

The first dose of reality for women entering coaching or therapy with the phrase “my ex was a toxic narcissist too” should come from something brutally simple: statistics.

According to the DSM-5 and multiple epidemiological studies, the prevalence of pathological narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) in the general population hovers around 0.5–1% (Stinson et al., 2008; APA, 2013). In other words, true clinical narcissism is rare—not epidemic. For the “narcissistic ex-boyfriend” trope to be as common as Instagram reels suggest, these 1% of men would have to be superhumanly productive heartbreakers—destroying relationships at machine-gun speed across continents.

And let’s not forget: that 1% includes women too. Yes, female narcissists exist, although they’re more likely to manifest narcissism in covert, emotionally manipulative ways rather than grandiosity (Russ et al., 2008).

So what’s going on?

What we’re witnessing isn’t a wave of actual narcissism, but a cognitive epidemic—a contagion of language, emotional projection, and self-exonerating narratives. Most women who claim to have escaped a toxic relationship and label their ex a narcissist tend to belong to tight social circles of other women… who, by an astonishing coincidence, have also dated narcissists.

And not just one. Multiple narcissists. Across multiple friends. Across multiple years.

Statistically speaking, this is impossible—unless narcissistic men are breeding like bacteria and targeting only certain social groups with laser precision. A more plausible explanation? Narrative contagion. A psychological echo chamber reinforced by social validation and coaching industry jargon.

And here's where things take a darker turn: many women’s therapists and coaches don’t just fail to challenge this story—they build entire business models on it.

A woman enters therapy hurt and confused. Instead of receiving objective emotional skill-building, she’s offered a diagnosis—not for herself, of course, but for her ex. “You were with a narcissist. You’re a survivor. He manipulated you.” She’s comforted, absolved, and pulled deeper into the therapist’s orbit.

It sounds empowering.

But it’s snake oil.

Because in most cases, there’s no actual narcissism to cure, and more importantly—the cure itself is what becomes toxic.

Rather than building introspective strength or emotional regulation, the “narcissistic ex” narrative externalizes responsibility, reinforces victim identity, and fragments relational self-awareness. The client may initially feel empowered—but that empowerment is based on illusion, not internal transformation.

In the next section, we’ll unpack the tragic irony: how the very “healing” process marketed by these coaches and therapists ends up fracturing the woman’s long-term ability to trust, love, and build relationships—effectively turning her into a self-sabotaging agent in her future romantic life.

Who Is a Long-Term Partner of a “Toxic Narcissist”?

This question has been examined for years in serious clinical settings by actual psychotherapists—not TikTok coaches. And the consensus is remarkably clear. Which is exactly why men should treat a particular kind of statement as a red flag:

“My ex was a narcissist. Actually… so was the one before that.”

Let’s take this statement at face value for a moment. Just as lightning can (in theory) strike the same person multiple times, it’s theoretically possible that a woman has genuinely dated one or even several narcissists. And that the same improbable tragedy has happened to several of her close friends, her cousin, and even her yoga instructor.

Let’s assume it’s all true.

But now comes the crucial insight—and one most intelligent, high-value men will never ignore:

If she spent three, five, or even ten years with this “toxic narcissist,” lived with him, had children with him, maybe even married him—then what does that say about her?

This is not about blaming the victim. It’s about identifying psychological complementarity.

Because here’s the clinical reality: healthy, grounded women with a strong identity and emotional regulation do not stay long-term with narcissists. Narcissistic traits are often apparent within weeks—and certainly within the first few months. Grandiosity, entitlement, emotional unavailability, lack of empathy—these are not well-concealed features. It requires wilful blindness, extreme emotional dependency, or serious psychological imbalance to remain with a narcissist for years.

And psychology has a name for that imbalance.

In many cases—especially when the relationship is long, chaotic, and involves intense cycles of idealization and devaluation—the woman who stays with a narcissist exhibits traits of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). Numerous studies and clinical observations have confirmed that BPD and narcissism form a frequent and destructive dyad in dysfunctional relationships (Gunderson & Ronningstam, 2001; South & Turkheimer, 2011).

The narcissist is the yang, seeking admiration and control. The borderline is the yin, seeking validation and fearing abandonment. The result? A toxic, codependent feedback loop that can last for years—until one partner breaks the cycle or implodes.

So when a woman calmly says,

“Oh, you can’t even imagine… My ex, the father of my three kids, was a textbook narcissist,”
what a psychologically attuned, high-value man hears is:
“I likely have borderline traits. Proceed with caution.”

And many men today have gotten the memo.

Especially in post-breakup dynamics or when dealing with single mothers of alleged narcissists, red-pill-aware or psychologically literate men make a near-instant judgment:
“Noted. You’re hot. We can have sex. But I’m not signing up for a decade of emotional trench warfare. No relationship unless I lose my pulse first.”

These men don’t say it out loud. They simply maintain distance, limit emotional investment, and when the woman begins to escalate, they ghost the borderline queen.

And this reaction is not cruelty—it’s self-preservation.

Because for high-quality men, who value stability, loyalty, and emotional sanity, dating a woman with a track record of decade-long “narcissistic abuse” is not romantic—it’s masochistic.

The True Problem: Escaping Responsibility

Let’s be clear: Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), while more common than narcissistic personality disorder, still affects a minority of women. And it should not be weaponized as a catch-all label just because a woman is emotionally intense or inconsistent.

That said, clinical BPD leaves fingerprints—distinct, observable patterns in behavior, speech, identity formation, and emotional regulation.

In many cases, women who present with these patterns come from emotionally disconnected homes, most notably featuring a narcissistic or emotionally distant father. Not physically absent—but present without warmth. He may have been successful, admired, and even disciplined, but emotionally unavailable. That’s a dangerous cocktail. From this upbringing emerges a chronic fear of abandonment, an unstable sense of identity, and a deep internal void.

As clinical psychologist Otto Kernberg described, these individuals often develop “identity diffusion”—they don't know who they truly are. So they cycle through hobbies, relationships, projects, careers—starting with hope, abandoning in confusion.

On the surface, such women may appear caring, agreeable, even grounded. But inside? There’s turbulence. Emotional volatility (neuroticism) paired with high agreeableness often leads them to perform the role of “eternal sufferer and healer.” They take on impossible tasks—emotionally broken men, unsolvable family problems, or martyrdom at work—because the chaos mirrors their inner reality.

They crave control, but not power—control over meaning, over identity, over the narrative that they're “good to the core.” And when reality intrudes—through rejection, critique, or a failed relationship—they break. The facade cracks. Calm turns to rage. Silence gives way to screaming, glass-shattering episodes where they shout things like:

“I’m a good person! I have a good soul!”
while simultaneously spitting on their partner and breaking household items.

That is a red flag of historic proportions.

But what happens when a woman who doesn’t actually have BPD—just stress, confusion, and some bad decisions—is placed in the hands of a snake oil therapist?

Now we face another form of destruction.

Many such women are simply overwhelmed:

• Burned by the contradictions of third- and fourth-wave feminism

• Deprived of healthy masculine leadership

• Emotionally confused

• Struggling with shame, performance pressure, and relational naivety

What they need is guidance toward maturity: ownership, forgiveness, emotional literacy, and solid boundaries. What they get is a therapeutic shortcut:

“You were the victim of a narcissist. Nothing was your fault.”

And that is catastrophic.

Instead of encouraging introspection and moral self-confrontation, the therapy acts as a spiritual indulgence—an absolution of responsibility. The woman is given a new identity: The Survivor of a Narcissist. A badge she wears proudly, but which locks her into a narrative of blamelessness and projection.

She no longer sees her own agency in choosing partners, creating children, or breaking relationships.

Everything happened to her.
She was tricked.
Manipulated.
Innocent.

The result?

When she returns to the dating market, she doesn’t just bring red flags.
She is the red flag.

An epitaph of responsibility avoided, radiating passive aggression and repressed guilt. She has become—through therapeutic grooming—a distorted, dangerous echo of the woman she once was.

And men are noticing.

Smart, solid, emotionally healthy men are reading these signs. And they’re not signing up for the pain.

When such a woman appears—attractive, seemingly kind, full of tragic stories—something switches on in the high-value male:


Warning. Self-deception. Emotional chaos ahead. Proceed with zero investment.

Most of these men won’t say anything. They’ll sleep with her if they must. But the moment things escalate, they disappear—not out of cruelty, but out of survival. Because they’ve seen what lies ahead:

• Mind-distorting guilt trips

• Gaslighting under the banner of healing

• Child weaponization

• Cycles of love and rage

• And a total absence of personal accountability
  
  

Most quality men would rather be alone than endure this emotional minefield. Because deep down, they understand a painful truth:

A woman who has fully externalized all responsibility will one day hold you accountable for every pain she’s ever felt.

And when that day comes, she won’t argue. She’ll accuse—with the full backing of pop psychology, feminist therapy, and victim marketing.

In Conclusion: Narcissism Hysteria and the Collapse of Accountability

Let us examine the cost of this therapeutic snake oil.

Snake oil has always sold well. It works best when accompanied by the “diagnosis” of a vague but emotionally triggering problem, followed by a promise of healing. And in our age of pop-psychology and therapeutic influencers, a particularly profitable niche has emerged:

The alleged epidemic of narcissistic men and the women who “survived” them.

Self-proclaimed coaches, online therapists, and Instagram experts are cashing in on women who spent 5, 10, even 15 years of their prime in long-term relationships—and now wish to explain away the regret, emotional damage, and life consequences by placing it all on their former partner.

And the pitch is always the same:

“He was a narcissist.”

But this narrative is psychologically self-destructive and marketplace-suicidal—especially when repeated publicly.

Because let’s be honest:

• If the woman truly spent years with a textbook narcissist, then that suggests she was psychologically entangled in a highly toxic dynamic, most likely exhibiting serious traits of Borderline Personality Disorder herself. The worse the alleged narcissist, the stronger the emotional fusion required to stay. And that means her internal state was far from stable.

That’s a red flag of clinical proportions for any man who values emotional peace and long-term stability.

• On the other hand, if the narcissist label was never truly earned—and instead slapped onto a hardworking, ordinary man who may have been imperfect, distracted, or occasionally distant—then the story is even worse.

It reveals a woman who has slipped into the archetype of the victimized queen: self-justifying, allergic to self-critique, and entirely disconnected from personal agency.

And that, too, is a red flag. A massive, blood-red flag.

Why?

Because these women often lack the core qualities that emotionally mature men seek: self-awareness, accountability, repentance, and inner strength.

What they need isn’t another therapist feeding their pain loop.
What they need is radical honesty—with themselves and with others.

They need to:

• Confess their own failures

• Repent without playing the victim

• Adorn their character through service, humility, and growth

• Rebuild their identity within a moral framework, not a therapeutic algorithm

Only through this responsibility-based transformation can they re-enter the dating market without carrying the stench of delusion and bitterness.

Until then, the wise man avoids them—not because he hates them, but because he’s not suicidal.

So let this be a warning to all men of value:

When a woman describes her ex of eight years, father of her children, as a narcissist—listen.
But not to her words.
Listen to what that label reveals about her ability to take ownership of her life.

Because in the end, the issue isn’t the ex.

It’s her relationship with truth.