How am I actually here, scrolling through all the mixed reactions to the final episodes of beloved cultural phenomenon, Game of Thrones, but all I can think about is what a certain someone would make of the whole thing?

You see, this person was one of the main reasons I let myself be peer pressured into picking up this show a few seasons late to the party. I was in college and all I knew about the show was that it’s a medieval epic fantasy show on HBO. But it was becoming such a cultural moment at the time and it did feel like you’re out of the loop when an episode comes out in the week and you’ve nothing to contribute to the lively conversation about some wedding and some dude who knew nothing.

As far as my friends were concerned it was the best thing since sliced bread and I needed to be on it yesterday. Then one person who I knew in passing suddenly comes into my radar making references about the show and all of it flying over my head. This person’s intense interest when talking about it, reading their writing about it, something told me it’s serious business. And so somewhere between all that and the fomo-ing, I caved and joined the Thrones club and officially got my ‘I have never watched a single episode of GoT’ card revoked.

Late-night binge-sessions for about two weeks later, I caught up and was able to engage and not have to feign interest when it came up. I finished one season and tried to get into the books as well. But I ditched it a few chapters in. I said ‘I got bored’ to this person’s amusement. I think it was mostly that even though my motto as a college student was ‘I can sleep when I’m dead’ there are actually only so many hours in a day.

As I progressed through the available seasons, I found myself more and more invested, not just in the political intrigue and the unsavory affairs of the families to gain power, but moreso in the opinions and reactions of this person. As I got to know them even more, they also became a barometer of sorts for my thoughts on the characters, the story arcs, the shocking deaths. Their excitement became mine, their disdain mirrored in my own reactions.

But here’s the thing about unhealthy (not quite) relationships—they often come with baggage you didn’t know you packed and are now lugging around. The deeper I got into Game of Thrones, the more I realized that my connection to the show was tied to this person in ways that weren’t entirely healthy. I wasn’t just watching it for the story; I was watching it trying to maintain a connection, desperately wanting to share something with someone who, in retrospect, may not have deserved that level of influence over my time and emotions.

But maybe that’s just how it goes. Somewhere after all the late-night conversations, the inside jokes, the meme-sharing, things fizzled. And on another late-night, maybe-drunken albeit half-hearted confession, and you feel them pull away, and feeling like an idiot, pulled away harder. You don’t dwell on it; it’s not like a grand epiphany or a proper heartbreak. Before you know it, you’re both leading separate lives, as life after college tends to go. It was just as well.

‘…of a crush I’d nursed and somehow, for all the emotional intelligence I thought I possessed, dysfunctionally attached to this show about bleakness and boobs…’

And then, one night years later, as the world tuned in to the show’s much-hyped conclusion, I found myself not just concerned about the fates of Jon Snow or Daenerys Targaryen but also preoccupied with the sudden visitation of the ghost of that fixation—of a crush I’d nursed and somehow, for all the emotional intelligence I thought I possessed, dysfunctionally attached to this show about bleakness and boobs, and bastards battling, and backstabbing and baby-stabbing. It was slightly amusing in its ridiculousness.

The show became a reminder of something bittersweet, something more personal—an unhealthy attachment that lingered long after both the final credits rolled and a supposed connection ended. The way how we all soured and were devastated at the 180 direction the show went. All that emotional investment and hype built over a decade. When Daenerys descended into madness, burning down King’s Landing, it felt like how something that started with promise could maybe just end up getting razed to ashes.

Now, as I read and scroll endlessly on the negative reactions about the show’s finale, it’s not just the characters or the plot twists I’ve been thinking about. It’s the person who got me hooked on Game of Thrones, and how my experience of the show is forever colored by the memories of a connection that, much like the series itself, didn’t end the way I hoped it would. Not that I knew what I actually hoped for these characters, save for wanting to see Arya Stark complete her to-do list.

Here I actually am, scrolling through reactions to the show’s ending, but also waxing wistful about the end of something that was never quite a relationship, yet left its mark on me all the same. An end I’ve long made peace with, though one can’t say the same for this show’s finale.

But one can’t help but wonder what they’re thinking about all this now—seeing something they loved so much become something that sparks complicated, and often negative, feelings for people, including myself.

You know, in a ‘just curious’ way and not in an unhealthy way.
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