Parasocial relationships are weird

June 22nd, 2022

Parasocial relationships are weird

Parasocial relationships are strange. They feel closer than some friendships but are hollow facsimiles, barely reaching beyond the level of acquaintance. They are unequal connections. They do not mutually benefit all participants. Why then does losing a connection to a stranger feel nearly as bittersweet as a true bond with a known companion?

I’ve lost real friends before. I now am mostly left with the parasocial relationships, so when they end they feel as poignant as the real friendships. They are mutually connected to an interest as well, so getting to an age or part of my life where I lose that interest or can’t commit to it as much any longer can feel like a betrayal to a friendship that doesn’t truly exist. It’s not as if the friendships lack any real value; in many cases it has been those friendships and the communities surrounding them that has kept me grounded to something consistent and trustworthy so that the less-reliable areas of my life feel more manageable. When those communities, either through my own actions or those on the other side of the relationship, begin to feel less reliable, I realize how little I have available to fill the gaps in my life and I feel guilty and lonely for depending on the parasocial and sad because I’m now truly alone. There’s a sense of shame that I ever found anything of value in the parasocial because it was only a placebo, a panacea for a problem that I could’ve spent time solving through true connections.

Where do I find those connections, though? Is it the ease of finding parasocial connections that make them so tempting? Am I doomed to forever be looking back on the good old days and the strong relationships they offered? Or is this the part of my life where I no longer get to enjoy those types of friendships?

@thejoemolloyshow

https://www.tiktok.com/@thejoemolloyshow/video/7092489908622773547

Evidence: Every podcast hosted by guys or “weekend warrior” type retreat. They’re all trying to replace loneliness with some “bro code” Be lonely. Find purpose.

♬ original sound - Joe Molloy

While I do despair that I have not yet found a community in Oklahoma City, I haven’t fully given up hope that things will change. For now I am settling with the weirdness of parasocial relationships, but I do think it’s possible to find new friends in middle age, even if it ends up being more of the mentor-based relationship with someone younger than me. I’m quite a bit of an introvert — a problem of its own when attempting to find new friends — so I think I can manage on my own for a while, but I do miss having a group of people to call my own.

A less painful element of my changing life is the loss of interests that used to deeply engage me. I used to be quite a big video game fan and collected a large amount of games and game consoles in my little apartment; however, once I met my future wife I stopped finding them as engaging. I didn’t mind losing that part of my life, but I didn’t realize how much of my community and friendships were based on that shared interest. Similarly, when I moved into board games and started buying a collection of long-form and rule-rich versions, I found in my community of friends a group of people equally interested who encouraged me to try out new games and explore new genres. When I moved away, my interest in board games begin to wane, and I found them more to be a painful reminder of what I once had rather than a comfort to me or a hopeful reminder of the community I could have again.

I want to rebuild my interests but time and community seems limited to me now. I feel more boring to others and less capable of becoming something more interesting, which makes it harder for me to feel capable of being able to make a contribution to a new community. I want to be available for my wife, my children, and my job, but I fear that leaves me little time to seek out a series of strong friendships (or perhaps even one). While I haven’t figuratively scooped out my interests or hobbies from my identity, I wonder if returning to them would feel as fulfilling as I remember or if they would in the end feel alien to me. Would I be regressing in my personal growth? What should I like as the person I am now? What am I now if I lack the strength in my current interests that I used to have in my previous hobbies?

I am probably overthinking this. Maybe that’s why parasocial relationships are so popular and attractive: they’re simpler and less complicated.