To be in love with an idea. A concept that has come up in media, fiction and general conversation amongst Gen Z around the past few years. Take The Idea of You (2024) starring Anne Hathaway, for instance, or films depicting characters falling for an AI system, which is, if anything, the idealized version of a real human, such as Ex Machina (2014). ‘Falling in love with an idea’ can even be found in classic literature, like Jay Gatsby in The Great Gatsby (1925) being smitten with the ideal that Daisy Buchanan represents, rather than who she is as a person. In dating culture, signs that you might be in love with the idea of someone are: thinking about your life together only in future tense, caring too much how you two together would look to other people, or changing yourself to fit the idea of you with them. We all know the phrase ‘a crush is just a lack of information’, and this partially comes to play in the art of falling for an idea. Because a crush is an idea: a fantasy of what dating another carefully selected specimen would, or rather could be like.
But I argue that being in love with an idea goes much further than simply crush or dating culture. In my opinion, most of us have fallen for, or actively support, the idea of many people in our lives. Whether it is our parents, sibling, coworker or best friend, we all hold a certain concept of them in our heads: “My best friend likes these films, has this favourite book, plays these video games and will do anything for that brand of chocolate.” We piece together likes and dislikes, fun facts or shared memories that we know of someone to compose a vision of them to store in our mind’s eye. But it is always just that: a vision. A concept of someone that is somewhat of an ideal picture, but which doesn’t take everything about their character into account. We are only in love with the idea of them.
Now, I’m certainly not insinuating that you can’t know more of someone than surface level. There are certain people, probably one’s romantic partner, parents or friends, that you will get to know on a much more intimate level. You will truly understand them. Past the bravado and façade, past the idea of them… who someone is at their core. Sometimes, however, ideas will still dominate. For example: why is it so disconcerting for me to see my parents cry? Because this does not match the concept I have steadily crafted in my head: a dependable, mature figure who is there to comfort me when I’m upset, but not present that emotion themselves. In some cases, it isn’t possible to know someone past an idea, as they might be too emotionally guarded, by nature or due to trauma, to let anyone see who they really are.
Being in love with an idea can even go further than the relationship with your peers: in one of my modules as a History student, we discussed the idolization of societal ‘heroes’ of the past, such as Michael Collins in Ireland or Lincoln in the United States. Crucial was the fact that the construction of these ‘heroic personas’ would eventually end up drastically deviating from the actual personality of the historical figure themselves. Lincoln, for instance, has near-demigod status, while in his own lifetime he was certainly an exceptional figure who achieved much good for humankind, but also someone with faults and actions that we today would frown upon. But to look up to these ‘heroes’ amidst contemporary turmoil, their character must be simplified to just the positives, or they will be too nuanced to idealize. This glorification of historical figures as heroes is eerily similar to the idealizing of one’s parents or friends.
To be clear: these images are not an inherently negative phenomenon. Falling for the idea of someone, whether romantic or otherwise, is an unavoidable step in getting to know them. After all, a crucial ingredient to creating a true connection is time, as one of my friends pointed out when discussing this with them. Yes, there are people one seems to instantly bond with, but you will need several shared experiences and deep conversations to know them past the illusion, or first impression. Even then: do we really want to know someone completely, even our partner? Doesn’t the excitement in relationships come from continuously discovering new things about someone? Some people don’t even know themselves that well, so why would you be expected to? Most importantly in my view, there’s a difference between another person knowing every single fact and quirk about you and feeling seen by them.
When, or even how, does the illusion begin to fade? We obviously have a less nuanced picture of the people in our life whom we are less close with, or have a one-sided view of. There may be someone you’ve known for years, but have never seen in a stressful situation, meaning you haven’t seen their ugly side. And yes: every one of us has that side, the parts of ourselves we’d rather not show others. Personally, I think that is when the idea of someone begins to dissolve, and we start to see their true version. It does, of course, take courage to be vulnerable with someone, as we humans are, if anything, all prideful creatures who would rather put up a brave face than show weakness. I’m not saying that we need to have a lesser opinion of a person to know or understand them, but every flaw, every layer that we slowly peel back, serves as a reminder of how inevitably human everyone around us is.
Finally, a clarification for the illusion, as each of us knows that they are a fundamentally flawed being, so why should we not expect that same nuance in others? In other words: why do we fall in love with the idea of someone? What becomes evident from the marvel of loving an idea is the fact that we humans always crave simplicity. We would rather see other people in a black-and-white framework, even if we know the reality is a murky grey. Our minds often automatically think in extremes, and this will be applied to our view of the people around us. Allowing too much nuance can make us feel overwhelmed, so we simplify. This is why we have all painted a supreme portrait of the people in our life with our mind’s paintbrush, and it is only when we shatter that frame that we will get to know the people beneath the canvas.
