Like many people, I’ve been spending my free time the last few weeks watching The Crown.

Now, I’ve been watching The Crown since its first season. It ticks a lot of my boxes for good entertainment – really great acting, solid scripts, and historically based. Plus, I’m a bit of an Anglophile, so that always helps.

I’ve found, however, that my enjoyment of the series has…lessoned. As I was watching the season, I started to wonder why. After all, the acting is a masterclass. Olivia Colman as the Queen? Gillian Anderson as Margaret Thatcher? I mean, c’mon.

A lot of the history was also new. Other than the fact that she was the first female prime minster, and nicknamed The Iron Lady, I didn’t know much about Margaret Tatcher. She is seriously fascinating.

Was it the scripts? I think partly. Not that the writing wasn’t well done. In fact, Olivia Colman had a few moments written for her – particularly in the final episode – that made me want to cheer at the TV because they were so excellent. So it isn’t the writing per se.

It’s the subject matter.

Like many, I’ve had a passing fascination with the royals. I’ve never been a diehard fan, but I did find them intriguing. And I will admit, when I was in high school, after Princess Diana passed and her sons were very much in the spotlight, I – as did so many girls my age – developed a bit of a crush on Prince William. I was faintly disappointed when he married Kate, knowing my delusional high school fantasies were, in fact, never going to come true. And I’ve followed a bit with the Harry and Megan story.

But the more I watch The Crown, the more I realize something.

I don’t really like the royals.

I have a respect for Elizabeth. I think that she truly loves her country and does her best to do right by her subjects.

But the rest of them? Yeah, not so much.

Now, as a writer, I get that Peter Morgan and the other creators of the show are looking for drama. The happy periods of the royals’ lives are glossed over in favor of the conflict. And yet, they all seem so desperately unhappy. Except for Elizabeth, who has a very clear purpose, none of them have managed to find purpose, inner peace, or joy. All the advantages the world has to offer hasn’t helped them find direction, true relationships, or contentment.

It’s all kind of…sad. And they’re all kind of…annoying.

So much that my all time favorite moment of the entire season was in the final episode. Prince Charles has come to the Queen for the umpteenth time to complain about his marriage to Diana. And she’s had enough. And she yells. Oh she yells. Telling him to grow up. To be a man. To act like a future king. To stop being selfish and petulant and spoiled.

All the things I wanted to tell him myself. To tell all of them.

(Kudos to you Peter Morgan for that moment. Seriously. Some of your best work.)

And it hit me. The real lesson of The Crown. I’m really glad I’m not a royal. For all of our societies obsessions with royalty, with every girl given the dreams that she should want to be the princess, it’s actually kind of awful.

Now, I don’t imagine that this knowledge is going to have a long lasting effect on, well, anyone. No one is knocking down my door hoping that I will be their queen. But I do think it’s an important self-knowledge. I am blessed to be able to pursue my dreams, to marry the person I want to marry, and to not have every move scrutinized in the press. I am able to life my life according to my purpose. And I have found true joy along the way.

That, to me, is way better than any tiara.