A Parasocial Break
Friends or followers? Neither?
FINALLY. My kids are all back in school. The shopping sprees have ended. Lunch boxes and backpacks are full. And the hours of television my kids are sometimes allowed to watch during the summer in punctuated segments are finally over. There’s very little TV during the school year.
Which is really good, because they need a break from Dude Perfect.
Every time I hear 'Let's goooooooooo!' echoing from the TV room, I know what’s up. Dude Perfect is one of very few YouTube channels we let our kids watch. These guys are like their cool older brothers, which is mostly fine because they’re wholesome and funny. My kids eat it up. The other day I tried a trick shot between my son’s legs and missed. He kept walking but threw “Ty would have made that one, Dad,” back over his shoulder. In short, my kids have a parasocial relationship with Dude Perfect. My kids only have a small number of these, but adults have plenty more. I have a ton of them.
My Boy Sam. And Keith. And Leopold.
Let me tell you about my boy Sam for a minute. Sam's a pretty killer athlete, though he's overly humble about it sometimes. He ran track in college and has done some great personal fitness challenges, like testing himself in the NFL Combine. Like me, Sam is a big reader. He's more of an audiobook guy than me, but I've gotten a bunch of really great book recommendations from him. His family, like mine, comes from Missouri, though his has an agricultural background. Sam's life experiences make for great stories, like the time he met the guy who started The Silk Road black market, or the time he had to tear his shirt off to help a guy bleeding from the head after a bike crash in front of a crowd of people. Sam's a really good guy and a family man too - he and his wife just had their first kid this year.
It sounds like I'm talking about a good friend right? I am totally NOT. And rattling that litany off is mildly embarrassing because the Sam I'm talking about is Sam Parr. He hosts the My First Million podcast with Shaan Puri. I've never met Sam. If I ever did, I'd probably be oddly nervous about it even though I'm older than him and I'm pretty sure we'd get along. That's because I've listened to Sam talk and tell stories and interview people for many hours (try their podcast if you like thinking about ideas and business and psychology, it's great! Sort of the farm league version of Acquired.)
This one-sided, semi-imaginary connection is called a parasocial relationship. It's a relatively new phenomenon on a large scale, but it's something we all experience now. In a parasocial relationship, you know these people well - their story, their personality - and you feel emotionally connected. They occupy your time and mental energy. But crucially, they don't know you at all. You are simply a part of their audience.
My YouTube feed is filled with these kinds of relationships and lots of sawdust. As a rookie woodworker, I've watched nearly all of Keith Johnson's woodworking videos (so have my kids), along with builds from Jason (BourbonMoth), Paul (Copper Pig), Cam (Black Tail Studios), and Erik Curtis. I don't just admire their projects; I enjoy their stories and what they teach me. These people feel like mentors— friends even.
And this sort of rapport can happen quickly! After listening to just four hours of Leopold Aschenbrenner talking to Dwarkesh, I know more about his views on longterm progress and AI risk (and OOMs) than I do about the concerns of most of my neighbors. Mind you, I’m probably more interested in AI risk. But then I remember that in these conversations I am simply a passive observer. I can follow Leopold and Dwarkesh and their thought processes, I can track the mental models they develop, and I can think about the reasoning - but I can’t clarify or ask questions or redirect. It’s not my conversation. Just as, after I’ve watched Keith Johnson apply the last of the Rubio Monocoat (for the fifth video in a row), I look down at my clean hands and think about my untouched workshop and realize that I haven’t built a thing. I’ve consumed content, I’ve felt productive and connected and inspired… but is it real?
One reason these interactions feel powerful is their authenticity. They feel real. Unlike the carefully crafted personas of politicians or celebrities, long-form content demands a level of earnestness not seen in other media. While Sam Parr certainly curates his image, it must be something he can maintain consistently over hundreds of hours of content. And so I feel confident I know a lot about the real Sam Parr. Or Keith Johnson. Or whomever.
This is why 1-on-1 interviews are such a popular style of podcast. It capitalizes on the intimacy and allows the listener - however many millions there may be - to feel like they’re holding the same secret. It’s not mass media, it’s a small fireside chat. Honest. Earnest. ‘Engaging conversationalist’ is the new hallmark for authenticity in media. There’s a reason Joe Rogan is so popular.
But you don’t have to be Joe Rogan. Platforms like YouTube and podcasting have brought about the ability for content creators to niche down into very specific subjects and still capture a large enough audience to make a living. Unless you’re into woodworking you’ve probably never heard of those channels, yet they have hundreds of thousands or even millions of subscribers. Cam from Blacktail has 2.7 million! Parasocial relationships make up more of our social bandwidth than ever before.
Parasocial Isn't Social
On a camping trip recently I asked the 13 year old daughter of my friends, during one of the times when her face was bathed in the blue light of her phone more than the campfire, what she was watching. “Just some makeup videos,” was the answer. My wife followed up with some cosmetics question and of course she knew the answer immediately. Her feed is filled with makeup videos from gorgeous 20-year-olds all with the “perfect, natural look”. I wondered how much she felt she knew these girls, and if she realized they didn't know her at all.
Maybe her interest is not too surprising - after all, taking care of appearances has been the subject of girls of a certain age since the dawn of civilization. But it’s supercharged now with the help of the algorithms.
This is the kicker we as parents need to realize about these audience-driven parasocial relationships. Our kids are forming their worldview, their understanding of beauty and worth, their entire sense of self with the help of these one-sided relationships with people they will never meet. It’s no longer just a small cadre of far-away celebrities and legendary sports stars up on high pedestals. It’s more intimate and authentic and ten times as addictive because these people feel like friends. Is it the apparently wholesome Dude Perfect crew? Or is it a fashion influencer pushing unrealistic beauty standards? Maybe it's a charismatic streamer weaving political ideology into gaming content. The truth is, I don't always know. They’re all content creators trying to capture more eyeballs.
Even if it is wholesome and good, this is still a little bit terrifying. Some kids seem more comfortable DMing on Instagram than talking to a new kid in the neighborhood. They’re learning life skills on TikTok as much as from family and friends.
And how different is all of that, really, from me with my woodworking gurus and economist podcasts? Here’s the real chisel to the gut: we, the parents, do this even more! I love the content I’ve mentioned here. I think you should watch it too, because it’s educational and super engaging. But sometimes we’re so caught up in the value of these things (me in the digital woodshop!) that we can’t see the problems it can create. Adults have more maturity and life experience and awareness to manage these things. Our lives are filled with friends and family and colleagues. We can contextualize these sorts of one-sided relationships.
Audiences are different than real-life relationships and our kids need our help understanding this. If we don't help them, we could wake up one day to find that they value the people behind their phones – people who don't even know they exist - to those around them. The beginning of the school year offers a chance to reset, to establish new routines. As we all settle into the new rhythms, I plan to consider not just what our kids are watching, but who is behind the content.
Time spent as an audience member cannot replace the warmth of a genuine smile, the comfort of a real hug, or the joy of shared laughter around the dinner table. No amount of watching woodworking videos will replace trying - and failing, and finally learning - to glue up a mitred box in the workshop. Parasocial relationships can enlighten and inspire us, but we need to translate what we get from them into our lives. It’s up to us to help our kids leverage the light from their screens to build better real-world experiences and connections. Because as informative, fun, and highly addictive as content can be, it still isn’t real life - and shouldn't replace it.
