I confess, I have never understood fandom. I remember hordes of young women so involved in their self-referential esctasy that they drown out John, Paul, George and Ringo. It took me several years to appreciate the music, mostly because I couldn't hear it, and figured that it couldn't have much value if the fans didn't want to listen.
I don't understand mobs of people forming up to catch a glimps of some film star, or sports figure. I don't understand what each of these people are seeking. What do they get out of imagining that the target of their admiration also caught a glimps of them?
I don't understand falling in love with a political candidate, either. These are folk whom, as we repeatedly remind outselves, walk a thin line between their private philosophies, and carefully structure statement that won't rile the electorate. They court the media to obtain favorable coverage (if they're smart), they surround themselves with staff to guide their public face, and they cultivate the best writers to script their thoughts. What does a person gain by imagining that a professional politician is talking directly to them?
Candidates emerge if they can garner the backing of the power brokers. Not one comes to the national stage burst whole from the egg of wisdom. Not one entered the fray because somebody in their circle of friends said, "I've got a barn! Let's hold an election!!" Not one is untainted by deals, and compromise, and positioning to gain the support of people with large amounts of money.
There are those who will inspire you with the vision they project, dazzle you with the competence they offer, touch you with the things for which they express concern.
But it is not about you.
Politics is a high art in which the product is sold to a mass audience by creating droves of fans for the carefully crafted message each candidate projects. It's a guessing game of trying to find a match between a candidate and the mood of the public. It's a high stakes business, based on identifying the person who can authentically convey the goals and intentions of those who have a vested interest in government following a course which they think is best.
Your part in the process involves finding out what the candidates plan to do, weighing their statements against what you think is best, and casting a vote for the individual who best matches your values and ideals. That match will never be perfect.
There is no perfect candidate, no perfect campaign, and no perfect match between what you want and what is being offered.
If you become a fan, however, if you keep screaming about how unfair the process has become, how your candidate didn't get a fair shot, how every other candidate is a sell out, a jerk, or a shill, you will drown out the music. You may even keep a lot of people from knowing that the music is good, and worth a second hearing.
If you imagine some deep and profound connection between you and the candidate, some recognition on their part that you are instramental in their plans, that you are the reason for what they do, you will become just another sad face in a crowd of frenzied folks behind the ropes; a rope line carefully scrutinized by the Secret Service because they recognize that fans of any stripe can be dangerous.
We often ridicule those who "drink the Kool-Aid", who loose their facilties to evaluate, to criticize, to disagree, who become "bots" of one type or another by aligning themselves with a person, or a movement, that requires nothing but hoarse cheering to provide momentum. That ridicule is rightly earned. That kind of allegance to a person or a movement surrenders your self, to another, or group of others, who have access to the money, and stage, to market their ideas for your consumption.
So, grow up. Remind yourself that politics is a business, candidates do what is necessary to get elected, and finding one who reflects your dreams is cause for a moment of quiet, pleased acknowledgement. Not fandom.
And if it doesn't work out, don't be like that 3 year old fan of Lucky Charms who throws a tantrum in the super market aisle when Mommy says, "No. Not today."