I always end up having the most unexpected conversations when I’m getting my nails done or talking with my personal trainer. Recently, while sitting in the nail chair, my nail tech brought up Johnny’s because she remembered how big of a fan I used to be.

And I froze.

Not because I was embarrassed — but because I didn’t quite know how to say, “I’m not really invested anymore.”

I haven’t been to a concert in over two years. I don’t follow tour announcements obsessively. I don’t track every release. And if I’m honest, I don’t feel the emotional pull I once did.

She was just trying to connect with me over something she thought I loved, and I didn’t want to abruptly shut it down. So instead, I danced around it. And in trying to explain that I wasn’t really into it anymore, I started reminiscing.

About waking up at the crack of dawn to catch the first shinkansen from Kyoto to Tokyo for NEWS’s 10th anniversary.
About wanting to make as many fandom friends as possible.
About buying every piece of merch just to have something tangible that said, “I belong here.”
About going to multiple stops on the same tour because once was never enough.

In my 20s? I would have done all of that without hesitation. Now? I don’t have the energy for it.

Do I technically have the time? Probably. But I no longer want to give that level of emotional energy to it. I feel nostalgia when I hear the music, but I don’t feel the need to invest myself in the people behind it anymore.

And as I sat there thinking about it, I realized something. This wasn’t just about Johnny’s. It was about parasocial relationships.

A few months ago, I wrote about parasocial attachment — about how easy it is to build emotional connections to artists and idols who don’t know we exist. I reflected on how that kind of attachment can slowly shape your identity, your routines, your spending habits, even your sense of belonging.

At the time, I thought I was writing about one specific agency and my attachment to them. But this nail salon conversation made me realize it was much broader than that.

I used to be a huge fan of Nishino Kana. I joined her fan club. I went to her concerts. I bought her goods. When she went on hiatus in 2019, I went to the live viewing of her final concert in a movie theater and I was genuinely upset when she paused her career to get married and have a child. I remember thinking it wasn’t fair — that male artists could have families without stepping back, so why did she have to?

Looking back, that reaction says more about where I was emotionally than about her decision. I was too attached. Too invested in choices that were never mine to carry.

Eventually, life moved on. I still listen to her music sometimes. I still sing her songs at karaoke. When I heard she was returning in 2025, my reaction was simple:

“Oh, cool. I’m looking forward to hearing what she releases.”
No urgency.
No emotional spike.
No need to re-enter the fan club.

Me in my 20s would have been devastated for days if I didn’t win concert tickets. I thrived on the energy of arenas and domes filled with people who loved the same thing I did.

Me now? Crowds exhaust me. My energy drains faster. I’m just as happy streaming the music on Spotify at home.

Do I still try for tickets sometimes? Yes — especially for One Ok Rock, because going with my best friend guarantees a great time. But more often than not, I’d rather watch a livestream than battle the crowd.

And this is the part that feels important – I don’t regret any of it.

Those years shaped me. They gave me community. They gave me stories. They filled my 20s with color and belonging.

But I also know I won’t go back to emotionally investing in parasocial relationships again — whether that’s idols, artists, influencers, or anyone else I don’t actually know.
I can respect someone professionally.
I can enjoy their work.
I can admire their talent.

But I no longer want to center my emotional world around someone who doesn’t know I exist.

Maybe this is what your mid-30s quietly give you.
Not bitterness.
Not detachment.
Just boundaries and self-understanding.

The earlier post was about recognizing parasocial attachment. This moment in the nail salon was about realizing I had already moved past it with more than just Johnny’s.

And I didn’t even notice when it happened.