Hot Take: What 20 Years of Fandom Taught Us About Parasocial Relationships
- Rebecca McDevitt
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
Article Contributed by Rebecca McDevitt
Loving something for twenty years gives you perspective you can’t rush. When fandom spans decades, it stops being about moments and becomes about seasons. There are years when music is everything. Years where it’s background noise. Years where it disappears entirely, only to return when you least expect it. That kind of longevity teaches you something important early on: intensity and depth are not the same thing. That distinction is the hot take.
When Connection Becomes a Conversation
Parasocial relationships have become a buzzy phrase lately, often framed as something unhealthy or embarrassing. But the truth is more nuanced than that. Connecting to an artist, a band, or a body of work is not only normal, but it’s the point. Art is designed to reach us emotionally. It’s meant to comfort, challenge, and soundtrack our lives. Feeling understood by music is not a flaw. It’s human.
The problem isn’t parasocial relationships themselves. It’s what happens when they stop evolving.
The Early Gravity of Fandom
In the early stages of fandom, intensity makes sense. You want to know everything. You want to be close to the source. You want community, shared language, inside jokes. For many people, fandom is the first place they feel seen. It becomes a refuge, a mirror, sometimes even a lifeline. There is nothing wrong with that phase.
But when you stay there forever, things can get complicated.
A Hot Take on Loving Without Clinging
Over time, long-term fandom teaches you that love does not need constant proximity to stay real. You don’t have to be everywhere. You don’t have to consume everything. You don’t have to perform devotion to prove it exists. The relationship changes as you change. That doesn’t mean it’s weaker. Often, it means it’s healthier.
The Quiet Middle Years
One of the least discussed parts of fandom is the phase out. The quiet years. The periods where you feel neutral. Not angry.
Not obsessed. Just… fine.
That moment can feel confusing, especially in cultures that reward constant engagement. But phasing out is not betrayal. It’s often a sign that the music did what it was meant to do. It carried you through something. And now you’re somewhere else.
Integration vs. Stagnation
This is where parasocial relationships either integrate or stagnate.
An integrated parasocial relationship understands boundaries. It allows the artist to exist without constant access. It doesn’t confuse recognition with intimacy. It doesn’t collapse when attention is not returned. It leaves room for real life, real relationships, and personal growth.
An unintegrated one clings to intensity. It mistakes proximity for meaning. It turns access into currency. It can make stepping back feel like loss, even when nothing has actually been taken away.
Neither of these paths start out as right or wrong. They’re developmental. The difference is whether you let yourself move forward.
When the Relationship Settles In
Longevity changes how you relate to the art you love. You no longer need it to define you.
You stop asking it to hold you up.
You let it exist alongside the rest of your life instead of at the center of it.
The music becomes something you return to, not something you chase.
There’s also a quiet confidence that comes with time. When you’ve loved something long enough, you don’t need to defend it. You don’t need to prove your history. You don’t need permission to step away or come back. The relationship is secure enough to breathe.
After the Loud Part Ends
What twenty years of fandom teaches you is that growth does not cancel love. Distance does not erase meaning. And being quieter does not make your connection less real.
The healthiest parasocial relationships are the ones that allow change. They evolve as we evolve. They don’t demand loyalty at the expense of self. They don’t punish us for becoming fuller people.
Loving something for a long time isn’t about staying the same. It’s about letting both you and the art move forward together.
And sometimes, the most meaningful phase of fandom isn’t the loudest one. It’s the peaceful one, where appreciation exists without urgency, and connection doesn’t need proof.
That’s not the end of fandom. It’s what comes after it grows up.
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