Hector Williams

I stand corrected.

For a long time, I was one who poked fun at the sort of person who was a disciple of a certain type of show—the type who just “had” to be home to see “Friends,” or couldn’t live without Tivo-ing “Lost” or “CSI.” GET A LIFE, I used to think. How can one be so attached to a television show?

I, too, am now guilty. And I have spent most of the day trying to figure out why.

As far as I am concerned, there are two television shows worth watching—NCIS and THE UNIT. Both air on Tuesday nights, making that evening sacrosanct for Amanda and me. The Unit, this season, has defied all expectations of what a television program should be like; it seems to possess the perfect balance of absolutely riveting story lines, twisty plot sequences, and pristinely cast characters.

I spent from 10:00 to 11:00 (until I went to bed), two concrete dreams, and most of my downtime today trying to understand why, after the credits rolled at the conclusion of the show, I found myself teary eyed over the death of one of the characters on the show.

It came as such a shock; it was the ultimate “I’ve played a joke on you” director’s strategy—divert your attention for the duration of the episode, and then completely baffle you at the end . . .blindside you and make an impact. Hector, an amiable and compassionate special ops soldier, nurses his wounded comrade back to life, only to be taken, instantly, by a sniper’s rifle in the last minute of the show.

Why do we feel so strongly about fictional characters--professional athletes, even? A college professor at UNH once lectured on “parasocial relationships”—that is, when WE as “concrete” and real human beings become so attached to things that are mere “stories;” things that don’t really exist in our concrete world. Basically, these are people who will never actually care about you the way you think you care about them. I know several of my college friends who cried when “Friends’” last episode aired on television, and I remember SEVERAL high school kids at OAHS who, essentially, held novenas when Kurt Cobain shot himself.

Did Kurt know these kids? Did Jennifer Aniston really care about all her fans as she laughed all the way to the bank? Will Hector Williams of “The Unit” take solace in the fact that I cried over his fake death on a one hour weeknight drama? I doubt it. In fact, definitely not. Yet, perhaps the trouble I had today stems from the fact that I felt like I truly lost someone very close to me.

And this is what makes me nervous. And embarrassed.

I explained it to my dad over the phone tonight: I really had a difficult time today, and I felt like I experienced a real death. Now, I realize I am putting this out on cyberspace, and I realize I must look ridiculous spending an otherwise perfect Wednesday bachelor night writing about my feelings, but I think this issue begs the question of what these types of parasocial relationships say about our TRUE interpersonal relationships. I fear that in a technological age, these might be the only relationships some people have. How sad. And what does it say about our compassion as true human beings? Are we missing out on person to person contact? Do we channel this neediness for love and affection and acceptance into something that doesn’t even really exist?

I’m still trying to figure it out. . .