A Personal Parasocial Parable

Like most things in life, it started with a “like.”

I’m sure it was a “moot” – internet slang for “mutual friend/follower” – who first led me to him. I had seen his content pop up on my feeds for some time in videos and GIF sets, and finally got curious enough to see what the hype was all about.

I could see the draw almost immediately. He was funny, charming, relatable, and dare I say, wholesome; the latter trait being a rarity on the internet. He was also quite good-looking in that quintessential “boy next door” sort of way, which was 100% my type (well, one of my types). After going through his profile and checking out a few more of his skits, I became intrigued. On the way back to my main feed, I made sure to hit the “follow” button to keep him in my online orbit.

One “like” turned into several “likes.”

Within weeks, I had become a big fan of him and his content. I shared his videos and GIF sets wherever I stumbled across them. I’d even built up the nerve to reach out to him and share how much I appreciated what he was putting out in the world. To my surprise, he responded almost immediately. I had interacted with media personalities before being part of the celeb journalism field, but his words to me seemed different. More personal, I suppose, more real. One conversation turned into two; two evolved into to more than a few.

At my next pitch meeting with my editors, I brought him up and requested to put together a piece on him. They accepted, and I went to work on it almost immediately. Once it was published, I nervously sent it his way. Within minutes, he reposted it to his social media profiles with a "thanks!"

“Like,” “like,” “like.”

When he announced a surprise meet-and-greet event in my city, I shrieked with excitement, then paused with worry. I clearly wanted to meet him in person, but his content and overall personality catered to a younger audience - an audience that, no doubt, would be in full attendance at the event. I reached out to him days before to inquire if it would be okay for me to attend. He assured me that my presence nor my age would pose any issues.

Standing in the long line at the meet-and-greet with him just feet away, my nerves kicked into massive overdrive. What would I say to him? Would I be too scared to speak? Would he even recognize me? As I made it to the front of the line, then toward him, his eyes lit up with recognition and warmth. He wrapped me in the tightest hug and thanked me profusely for coming. Within moments, my guard fully collapsed.

I expressed how much I enjoyed his content, how grateful I was that he found the time to respond directly, and reminded him of the article I wrote. Each response he gave was full of gratitude. We hugged multiple times during our chat. One of the event assistants took a photo of us hugging. To this day, it’s one of my favorite pictures ever. We both appear so happy to be in each other's presence. As we said our goodbyes, he told me how precious my “gift” of writing was and to never lose sight of it. And I never have.

“Like” this for more!

As the years went by, my support for his work and our personal rapport grew in tandem. When he made the move to long-form, more edgier content, I subscribed to him as quickly as my fingers would allow. When he revealed his plans for a live touring experience (which included another meet-and-greet opportunity), I didn't hesitate to purchase a very expensive VIP ticket. When he leaned into his musical talents, I amplified his original songs in reviews. When he confirmed his sexuality during LGBTQ+ Pride Month, I pitched and wrote another article about how wonderful his reveal was (even though my editors were becoming slightly annoyed by this point).

I never found it strange that he didn’t follow me back on any of our shared social media profiles. Working in this medium, I understood that many figures in the spotlight refrain from making personal relationships public knowledge. Usually, I would tag him in posts on social media or send him a direct message to get his attention. As busy as he could often be, he always found time to respond. It was things like this that gave me hope for a potential IRL friendship.

With this hope in mind, I made plans to attend another fan event he held in my city a few years ago. Just 24 hours before the event, my fiancé broke up with me after our first and only argument in our entire relationship. That morning, he kicked me out of his house with a one-way ticket back home. Little did he or anyone else know, I was suffering through a severe manic episode triggered by all the stress of the sudden breakup, the sleepless night I endured after, and a large amount of extremely potent marijuana in my system.

(Yes, I’ve mentioned part of this in my past tales. I promise the full story will come soon.)

While I made it home and to the event space without incident, my internet buddy and I did not interact that day. It was probably for the best. Later that evening, I was admitted to a mental health ward and incorrectly diagnosed with bipolar disorder, then correctly treated for a marijuana overdose. Most of my friends; online or otherwise, are just learning of this bit of the story for the very first time. Surprise!

Mo’ “Likes,” Mo’ Problems.

As his career and popularity grew, so did his confidence and self-worth. He had never been shy about displaying his body in his content for either comedic, inspirational, or lusty reasons; but he truly started to push the needle with things. I admit my physical attraction toward him had grown significantly over time. I never hid this from him and he seemed to appreciate the attention to his body; not only from myself, but from his many followers. I never once breached the confines of admiration, however. As I often say, “thirst should never override respect.”

Not long ago, he posted a short skit of himself dressed in a costume. It was standard fair to his usual content, but one thing in particular stood out - like, really stood out. To be fair, was pretty hard to miss - no pun intended. While I chose to keep my thoughts to myself, his followers did not and they flooded his mentions with raunchy comments.

A short time later, he posted a screenshot from a conversation with his scene partners. They had seen most of the commentary about the pervasive protrusion and teased him mercilessly about the naughty responses that were coming his way.

“Stop embarrassing me in front of my friends,” he shared in the tagline.

While I hadn’t personally commented, I felt some guilt noticing what he probably hoped no one would notice. In his comments, I jokingly responded that I would no longer “thirst” for him in public. Considering most, if not all, of my admissions of attraction barely surpassed a PG rating, I assumed he would pick up the irony and respond in kind. Perhaps, consequently, that’s why his actual response hit harder than I expected:

He “liked” it.

He “liked” me telling him that I would no longer be flirtatious toward him.

For a moment, I thought it was a mistake on his part. Do you know that thing some people do when they blink multiple times after someone says or does something off-putting? Almost as if blinking repeatedly would somehow reverse time and erase the off-putting thing from existence?

I’m sure I did that at least once, twice, or a dozen times. That "like" had to be a mistake, right? He gave the impression that he was incredibly intentional with how he responded to others, especially online – so he had to pick up how I may take what he was putting down. Also, he knew me a bit better than most, or so I thought.

In what seemed like another blink of an eye, my feed automatically refreshed and with it, a new post from his account appeared. Reading it out loud, it was at that moment that I knew that he knew exactly what he had done.

“I’m kidding, everyone,” it read. “I genuinely appreciate that you all like what you see! Comment away! It makes me feel really good about myself.”

I don’t “like” this. I don’t “like” this at all.

I know some may find it naïve for someone like me to have an interpersonal connection with a media personality. To defend myself somewhat, he wouldn’t have been the first. I’ve been incredibly lucky to consistently interact and be on friendly terms with a few notables in different entertainment fields (they know who they are, but you never will).

Due to our multiple interactions, I believed that a genuine friendship was forming, and felt secure in that belief. I really would have liked that. Unfortunately, his “like” would be the timebomb for any further interactions between us, personal or otherwise.

I muted his accounts for a while, then unfollowed them altogether. I thought of responding to a tweet or two of his that other followers engaged with, then thought again, then permanently chose not to. I disengaged and lost interest in his content. I haven’t spoken to or about him in several months – and I’m almost sure this post will be the final time I do so publicly.

I often wonder if what I saw as a burgeoning friendship was, in fact, something a bit more parasocial. I wouldn’t blame myself if it was. Many people have been in those shoes before and if they fit, you just have to wear them sometimes. Perhaps I allowed my mind to play up aspects of our interactions, but I give myself grace for finally reaching a point when the reality of self-love and growth was better than the fantasy of false friendship.

I still wonder at times if I truly felt a kinship with who I thought he was or the person he presented himself as online. Maybe it’s not meant for me to figure out, though. Maybe the lesson here was learning to be more of a friend to myself and my IRL friends, and not just someone I happen to “like.”