Over the last decade, a unique form of connection has emerged in the digital landscape: parasocial relationships. These one-sided bonds, where individuals develop intense emotional attachments to public figures they encounter online, have become increasingly prevalent. From devoted fans of K-pop groups like Blackpink and Twice to avid followers of Twitch streamers and podcast hosts, the internet is rife with these “almost social” connections. The phenomenon raises a crucial question: in an age of hyper-connectivity, why are so many drawn to these virtual friendships, and what does it say about our need for belonging?
Podcasts, in particular, have become fertile ground for parasocial relationships. As Rachel Aroesti noted in The Guardian, podcasters often step into the role of the friend we confide in. Take the McElroy brothers, creators of comedy podcasts like My Brother, My Brother and Me. For many listeners, they are more than just entertainers; they are companions. Fans immerse themselves in McElroy lore, follow fan communities, and feel a personal connection to these voices in their earbuds. It’s a feeling of familiarity, a sense that “if we met, we could be friends.” But this feeling, while comforting, exists solely in the listener’s perception.
This yearning for connection through online personalities points to a deeper human need: belonging. Psychologists Roy Baumeister and Mark Leary’s research highlights that belonging is satisfied by consistent, structured, and pleasant interactions. Historically, this need was met within the extended family. However, as societal structures evolved, so too did the quest for belonging.
Friendship, as we understand it today, began to take shape in response to disruptions in traditional family structures. Events like the Great Famine and the Black Death in 14th century Europe decimated populations, forcing individuals to seek connection outside of kinship. Bonds with like-minded individuals grew stronger, formalized through rituals and institutions like confraternities, offering mutual support and a sense of community. These friendships were built on reciprocity and tangible support, a far cry from the one-way dynamic of parasociality.
The Industrial Revolution and urbanization further transformed friendship. As people migrated to cities, traditional community structures weakened. Leisure shifted to commercial spaces, and shared consumption became a bonding mechanism. Friendly Societies and clubs emerged in the 19th century, offering structured social interaction and mutual aid in a rapidly changing world. These organizations provided a framework for belonging in the face of societal upheaval.
Post-World War II America saw another shift. Suburbanization and consumerism fostered individualism, while mass media began to fill the belonging gap. This era witnessed the rise of “personality shows” on radio and television, analyzed by Donald Horton and Richard Wohl in their seminal 1956 paper on parasocial interaction. Shows like Lonesome Gal created an illusion of intimacy, with performers speaking directly to audiences, fostering a sense of personal connection with isolated viewers. These early forms of parasociality offered a semblance of belonging to those feeling marginalized.
Today, we face a new crisis of belonging, driven by economic shifts. While material goods have become more affordable, essential services like healthcare, education, and housing have become increasingly expensive. This economic pressure strains families and communities. People are having fewer children, and traditional institutions of belonging, like churches and community groups, are declining. This has contributed to a “friendship recession,” particularly among men, with studies showing a decrease in close confidants. The isolation of recent global events has only amplified this trend.
In each era of belonging crisis, technology has played a role in shaping social connections. From letters in the Renaissance to clubs in the industrial age and television in the mid-20th century, people have adapted available tools to address their social needs. Today, the smartphone and the internet are the dominant technologies shaping how we connect, or, in the case of parasociality, perceive connection.
Modern parasocial media, like the personality programs of the past, relies on a carefully constructed performance of intimacy. Content creators cultivate a conversational style, share personal anecdotes, and present a curated vulnerability. Bo Burnham’s Netflix special, filmed in his home studio, exemplifies this. While seemingly raw and intimate, the production is meticulously crafted. The lighting, the framing, the self-deprecating humor – all designed to create the illusion of a personal connection with the viewer.
However, unlike the shared experience of watching television in a living room, modern parasocial media is consumed in isolation, through personal devices. This individualized consumption amplifies the feeling of a direct, one-on-one relationship with the creator. Furthermore, the internet’s vastness allows for niche content targeting highly specific interests. Discovering these niches can feel like uncovering a hidden part of oneself, deepening the sense of personal resonance with the content and its creator.
The inherent tension in parasociality lies in the contradiction between intimacy and scalability. While a podcast might have millions of listeners, each individual experiences it in private, fostering the illusion of a personal conversation. This illusion is further reinforced by the blurring lines between creator and consumer in contemporary parasocial media.
Platforms like Patreon, Twitch, and OnlyFans monetize this illusion of intimacy. Fan interactions, from chat comments to paid subscriptions, are woven into the content, creating a semblance of reciprocity. VTubers respond to chat requests, and Patreon tiers offer varying levels of perceived personal access to creators. Amanda Palmer’s Patreon, offering webchats and postcards for higher pledges, exemplifies this commodification of “friendship.” These platforms frame financial support as acts of friendship, blurring the lines between economic exchange and genuine connection.
Ultimately, parasociality offers a false promise of belonging. The desire for reciprocal recognition – to be seen and valued as an individual, not just a metric – remains unfulfilled. Fans may yearn for a two-way relationship, but the scale of internet culture makes genuine individual recognition impossible for creators.
This inherent frustration can lead to volatile fan behavior. The backlash against Travis McElroy within the My Brother, My Brother and Me community illustrates this. When fans felt the content quality declined, their parasocial investment turned into resentment, directed personally at McElroy. The perceived betrayal of the “friendship” felt deeply personal.
While some critiques focus on blaming creators and platforms for exploiting vulnerable fans, this perspective overlooks the critical and creative agency within fan communities themselves. Fan spaces are not merely passive recipients of content; they are vibrant ecosystems of fan art, fiction, and critique. The term “parasociality” itself has been embraced and discussed within fandom, demonstrating a level of self-awareness and critical engagement. Fan communities often explicitly caution against the pitfalls of parasocial relationships.
However, even the promise of community within fandom can be deceptive. Social media platforms present a skewed view of online interaction, making it appear as a thriving, participatory space. In reality, the vast majority of users are lurkers, passively consuming content and interactions created by a small, active minority. These lurkers engage in parasociality on multiple levels, consuming both the creator’s content and the performed engagement of “superfans.”
This reality reveals a broader truth about the internet: the often-disappointing parasocial nature of online interaction itself. Social media platforms, designed to connect, can ironically flatten even real-life relationships into a series of one-sided observations. We scroll through curated feeds of acquaintances, observing their lives from a distance, often in isolation.
In many ways, we have all become performers in our own online lives, curating content designed to project an image of connection and engagement. We mimic the personality show hosts of the past, speaking into the void, seeking validation from a faceless audience. Parasocial media, therefore, is not the root problem, but a symptom of a deeper societal longing for belonging in a world that often feels increasingly disconnected. It highlights our persistent desire for genuine connection, even as we navigate digital landscapes that often offer only fleeting, one-sided substitutes for true friendship.
Brendan Mackie’s analysis provides a compelling framework for understanding the complex dynamics of parasocial relationships in the digital age. By examining the historical context of friendship and the evolving technologies of connection, he sheds light on the enduring human need for belonging and the paradoxical ways in which we seek to fulfill it in the modern world.
