There are times, dear reader, when I write a headline that starts pushing on the fringes of my psyche, as Cthulhu's dreams might erode the sanity of the waking world—this is one of those times.
In 2018, Akihiko Kondo decided he'd marry digital icon Hatsune Miku, a Vocaloid performer with enough of a following to sing her way into videogames, DLC for videogames, and uh, Magic: The Gathering. Miku's dulcet tones have reached the ears of millions over the years, but aside from being a living and breathing thoughtform tucked into our collective imaginations, she is undeniably, well, a fictional creation. At least until the singularity happens, anyway.
This drew a lot of media attention, as you might imagine, and Kondo would eventually go on to give actual lectures on the subject, founding the General Incorporated Association of Fictosexuality. The story goes that, at age 23, Kondo fell into a deep depression, but an enduring love for Miku pulled him out of that hole. As he told CNN in 2018, she «lifted me up when I needed it the most. She kept me company and made me feel like I could regain control over my life.» Kondo was never able to legally tie the knot, but he did have a symbolic ceremony attended by 39 strangers (he did invite his co-workers and family, but they did not attend).
To make things clear, I'm not particularly interested in ragging on anyone for living in ways that might seem strange to outsiders—as a rule, I think trying to understand and connect with people like this is more fascinating than simply pointing and laughing. Kondo's story gave a brief window into a subsection of people who do exist and, for whatever reason, derive comfort from their perceived relationships to fictional characters.
I'm more of a mind to criticise his choice of partner based on the fact that she's canonically 16, but that's a whole can of worms, and she's also been 16 for 13 years. Did Miku start to age in Kondo's mind when he married her? I've already peered into one void
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