Parasocial

I went to a show. Bubble burst, almost.

I was going to write about crutches, but that can be a future post.

This one is deliberately late as it covers a show I went to last night - Mostly Wise, by Chris Williamson, in the Hammersmith Apollo. It was big. 3000 people, 2 hour show, and he’s nailed his onstage presence. The problem is all mine.

I’m a big fan of Chris. His Modern Wisdom Podcast rightly has 5 million subscribers. He’s one of the few hosts who managed to discuss a wide range of topics with an equally wide range of guests, while keeping out the lunatics and conspiracy theorists (mainly).

His discussion techniques manage to engage and enlighten his guests and the viewers, and that in turn shines light on people whose opinions I might never listen to otherwise. I have a broader range of knowledge thanks to the podcasts I watch, and I’m grateful for that.

I went to the same show a couple of years ago, and sat waaay off in the back. I enjoyed it. This time I paid the VIP premium and sat four rows from the front, which included the opportunity for a personal meet and greet.

The problem for me was, being all up in my own business about people pleasing, mirroring others to gain acceptance, and generally finding social interactions hard, was that I had built up a handshake and a photo in my mind to be way more than it could ever have been.

It was late. Chris was obviously tired. I shook his hand, had a photo or three, and thanked him for introducing me to rock music I’d never listened to before. I skipped all the other things I meant to say because we were a production line of guests, and got no more than 30 seconds each.

I’d imagined we’d have a long conversation. I thought some of his fellow show attendees might be there. I’d rehearsed what I was going to say. None of that happened.

In and of itself, that was fine. I was glad to have met and personally thanked someone I’ve watched online for years. I’d ticked that off the list, and the personal interaction was understandably limited. I came away from the interaction a little disappointed, but nevertheless satisfied.

Even as I write this, I realise that the main benefit of the show wasn’t the content - which was good, albeit in much that same vein as you’d get from podcasts and the newsletter - but in the interaction with fellow attendees. That’s why I’ll go to the next show, too.

Being VIP was just a badge, but it granted access to the front few rows, and I’ve found that my interaction with fellow VIPs was far better than ‘regular’ attendees. We’d all paid a higher fee to be there, were invested in meeting the man and interested in what he has to say, and thus our common ground was already established. As a result, I was able to overcome my fear of social interaction and had a great time.

Parasocial relationships are bloody strange, frankly, but having put this one to the test I came out much wiser.

The real relationships were the temporary ones I developed with my fellow attendees, and alongside the show content - which was worth it, don’t get me wrong - that’s what sealed my desire to return.

Back next week to talk about crutches.