Dating is already a contact sport. Add powerful women to the mix, and suddenly the playing field tilts.
Caroline Stanbury—entrepreneur, Real Housewives of Dubai star, and unapologetic alpha—captures that tension perfectly in her intro to Uncut & Uncensored with Caroline Stanbury: “I’m Caroline Stanbury, star of The Real Housewives of Dubai, entrepreneur, wife, and mother of three, once divorced and now remarried to a much younger man.”
Her résumé alone can make an average suitor break into a nervous sweat, which raises the question: Why do so many men short-circuit when faced with a woman who owns her success?
Interestingly, this issue rarely surfaces in queer or non-binary relationships, where roles aren’t shackled to a “man as provider” blueprint. Without that inherited script, partners can negotiate power from scratch—splitting bills, celebrating wins, and supporting careers without ego wounds. The friction flares mostly in heterosexual dynamics precisely because society still whispers that a man’s value is measured by how much more he brings to the table.
Stanbury doesn’t mince words about the visceral reaction her presence can cause. “When I landed, I was a big f**king deal,” she reveals. Confidence at that level can send fragile egos scrambling for cover. Many men still equate masculinity with “being the bigger deal,” so when a woman walks in already commanding the room, their first instinct is to retreat or resent.
Power isn’t handed over; it’s forged in fire. Stanbury lays bare the low points before the glow-up. “I wasn’t happy in my marriage. I was losing my business. My TV show had ended. I genuinely didn’t know who I was or what I wanted to be,” she states.
Rock bottom could have turned her into a cautionary tale, but she flipped the script. “The best thing that ever happened to me was probably losing that business and making the move to Dubai,” she says, adding that she’d “never” return to her home country of England because she’s satisfied in her adopted home.
That pivot redefined her sense of self long before any man entered the picture. When a woman learns to celebrate her comeback, she’s no longer auditioning for external validation. Men who expect to “save” her quickly realize she already saved herself—and there’s nothing left for them to rescue. For some men, that’s ego-shattering. But, for powerful women like Stanbury, that’s liberation.
How does a woman who runs businesses, raises kids, and racks up reality TV receipts find a lasting partnership? She sticks to fundamentals that start with self-belief:
By operating from a place of abundance rather than approval, Stanbury removes the pressure to shrink.
Men tend to struggle with powerful women when they conflate a woman’s success with their own failure. Stanbury’s journey proves the opposite, because success isn’t a zero-sum game. Only a man secure enough in his own identity can thrive beside a woman who already leads her own parade.
For the women reading, don’t ever edit your résumé, your ambition, or your wardrobe, to soothe someone else’s discomfort. As Stanbury’s life after 40 demonstrates, confidence isn’t competition—it’s collaboration, if you’re brave enough to join the ride.
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