How parasocial became a word of the year

HostI was watching this guy play a card game online the other night, and I realized I have spent more time listening to him talk than I have my own brother lately. I know his coffee order, his dog’s name, and even what he thinks about movies I have never seen. Maya, why does it feel like I'm hanging out with a friend when I'm really just staring at a screen?

GuestWell, you're touching on exactly why that word parasocial has been popping up everywhere lately. It was even picked as a word of the year because the way we live online has pushed this feeling to a whole new level. Essentially, a parasocial bond is a one-sided relationship where one person pours in all this time and heart, while the other person has no idea they even exist. We have had this since the early days of television, when folks started feeling like they really knew the news anchors or talk show hosts. But today, with streamers on sites like Twitch or YouTube, that feeling has become much more intense. It's not just watching someone on a stage anymore. It feels like you're in the room with them.

HostBut is it really that different from being a big fan of a movie star or a band? People have been obsessed with celebrities forever.

GuestIt's different because of the way the tech bridges the gap. When you watch a movie, you know there's a script and a camera crew. But when a streamer is sitting in their bedroom, wearing a hoodie, and looking right into the lens, your brain gets a bit confused. That camera lens is at eye level. When they look at it, your brain registers eye contact. Then they might read a comment you typed and say your name out loud. Suddenly, that wall between the famous person and the fan disappears. In your head, you're not just a face in a crowd of millions. You're a person they just spoke to. It triggers the same parts of our brain that light up when a real friend recognizes us in a room.

HostSo we're basically just being tricked by our own biology because a guy in a hoodie looked at a webcam?

GuestTricked is a strong word, but our brains definitely haven’t caught up to the internet yet. For most of human history, if you saw a face every day and they looked you in the eye and told you their secrets, that person was in your tribe. They were a friend or a neighbor. Our gray matter still thinks that's the case. Even if you know, deep down, that there are thirty thousand other people watching the same stream, the feeling of being seen is very real. It fills a gap. We're lonelier than we used to be, and having a consistent voice in your ear for four or five hours a day feels like company. It's a very cheap and easy way to feel like you belong somewhere.

HostI don't know, it feels a bit sad when you put it that way. Like we're all just paying for fake friends because we can't find real ones.

GuestI wouldn't call it sad, but it's complicated. There's a lot of good that comes from it. These online spaces can be huge communities for people who feel like outsiders. But here is the part that gets messy, and it's why the word is being studied so much now. There's money involved. Streamers often rely on tips and monthly fees from their viewers to keep going. So they have a reason to make you feel like you're their close buddy. They share their personal struggles or their dating lives because that honesty builds a deeper bond. The more you feel like their friend, the more likely you're to send them five dollars to help them out. It turns a friendship into a business model, and that can lead to some pretty dark places.

HostThat sounds like a recipe for some really entitlement issues. If I'm giving someone money every month and I feel like we're friends, I might start to think they owe me something.

GuestThat's where the friction starts. You see it when a streamer gets a girlfriend or boyfriend in real life, and the fans go wild with anger. They feel cheated on. Or a fan might get upset because the streamer didn't thank them enough for a gift. This is the danger of a one-sided bond. The fan thinks they have a seat at the table, but the streamer is just doing their job. They might care about their fans as a group, but they can't possibly be friends with ten thousand people at once. When that reality hits, it can feel like a genuine breakup. People lose their sense of community and their sense of being known all at once.

HostIt's strange because the streamers are kind of trapped in it too. They have to keep performing that friendship to pay their rent, even if they're having a bad day and want to be left alone.

GuestThey're very much trapped. Some streamers talk about the pressure of having to be always on. If they go quiet or stop being as open, their income drops. They're selling a version of themselves that's designed to be loved. It's a very heavy weight to carry, knowing that thousands of people are leaning on you for their social life. It makes for a very strange world where we're all more connected than ever, but those connections are often built on a foundation that isn't quite solid. We're using new tools to satisfy very old needs for belonging and being seen.

HostIt seems like the biggest question left is how we learn to enjoy these creators without letting the bond take over our actual lives.

GuestWe're still trying to figure out where the line is between a healthy hobby and a replacement for real-world ties.

HostThat guy playing cards on my screen still feels like a buddy, even if he only knows me as a line of text in a scrolling chat box.