wannabe chums

ELEANOR ROBERTSON PONDERS THE NATURE OF ONE-WAY RELATIONSHIPS.

Apart from my partner and friends, the person I’m closest to emotionally at the moment is the lady who runs my favourite Youtube yoga channel. The soothing tones of her voice, the way she says, “Meet me in downward dog,” and the encouragement she gives in her videos are all balm for my soul. Working my way through routines she’s recorded at different points over the past eight years, I can see her house plants growing, her hair changing, her taste in athleisure wear shifting. Do I sound like a complete weirdo yet? No? OK, let me put some more effort in.

This kind of connection – the one-to-many, unidirectional bond between a consumer and a content creator – is called a ‘parasocial relationship’. They’ve probably existed in some form since humans invented symbolism. Picture a very early agriculturalist during the Neolithic period worshipping a tiny statue of a god – this is a sort of parasocial relationship. Despite the cringe level being markedly lower than me saying, “Thank you, Adriene,” at the end of a yoga video, the principle remains the same. You can have a parasocial relationship with a famous person, like a celebrity or an influencer. Or it can be someone in your real life, like the skinny guy I used to see once a week in my philosophy lecture, with whom I had a fertile imagined courtship, marriage and children. The key is that you’re attached to them, but they have no idea who you are.

Parasocial relationships can sometimes be difficult to manage, because they feel so real, but really, they’re not real. Much like giving a cigarette-shaped candy to a child, the superficial similarities are outweighed by important differences. At the very unhealthy end you have straight-up stalking, where someone totally loses track of the fact that their ‘celebrity buddy’ would pass them on the street without a second glance. It can be painful to acknowledge that your para-friends have no idea who you are, but this is one of the many bitter pills we must swallow in order to live our lives in the human community, rather than digging through trash in a ditch.

Less fully committed, but still quite troubling, is online ‘stan’ culture, where people become so attached to a pop star or Instagram personality that they act as unpaid mercenaries defending their beloved’s reputation from criticism. God help you if you say one bad word about someone who has serious stans. There goes the next six to eight weeks of your life, spent blocking people and unclogging your email pipes, which will become filled with messages like, “i hate u ugly bitch how dare u criticise my wife, the youtube makeup artist Hayley Mcbling.”

Beneath the unpleasant behaviour of stans, though, lurks a quite sweet impulse of reciprocity: they want to do something for their parasocial object, who has given so much to them. But remember, this is not a real social relationship! Our precious monkey brains don’t understand the difference, so it’s crucial to keep that fact fresh in the rational parts of your mind! My friends from inside the computer don’t need me to defend them online, trim their hedges, or polish their ornate marble kitchens.

Despite the pitfalls, this type of relationship can be quite healing. Sweet Yoga Mother Adriene, for instance, has given me some of the most relaxing and healthy exercise experiences I’ve ever had. Her unconditional positive regard for her audience feels personal, even though it’s not. I’m sure if she could actually see me she’d say something like, “You’d better be having a shower after this, Stinko,” or, “Don’t you have a pair of undies without holes in them?” But because she only exists on my laptop screen, I get to skip all the hard questions for once! And yes, Adriene, I am having a shower straight after this. I promise.