I’m Just a Fan – Part 5: Trust

Trust is probably one of the most complicated aspects of the relationship between public figures and their fans.

As a private person, I barely think about it when someone walks toward me on the street. Most people simply pass me by. Nobody expects anything from me.

For people in the public eye, that reality is different. At first, they don’t know who is approaching them or what that person might expect. Maybe someone just wants to say hello. Maybe they want a photo. Maybe a conversation. Or maybe they want much more.
Of course, there are countless respectful fans. But there are also people who see boundaries differently, or who may never have stopped to think about what it might feel like to live with that much public attention.

So I often wonder: What makes someone in the public eye want to open up to fans in the first place – and how far do they want to go?

There probably isn’t one universal answer to that. Because every actor is, first and foremost, an individual with their own personality.
How open are they by nature? How much closeness feels comfortable to them? Are they someone who enjoys connecting with people and sharing something of themselves – or are they more reserved and need more distance? What kind of experiences have they had with fans over the years?
Maybe the willingness to open up depends on all of those things – and probably many more that I simply can’t see from the outside.

And then there’s another question I keep coming back to:
How much trust can – or does – someone want to place in people they don’t actually know?

Of course, not every encounter between actors and fans happens on the same level. At conventions, signings or meet-and-greets, interacting with fans is often part of the professional setting. People are there to meet fans, answer questions, sign autographs or take photos. The roles and expectations are relatively clear. What becomes more interesting to me is what happens when that predefined setting becomes less clear.
When people voluntarily show more of themselves, engage in regular conversations or allow a space to develop where encounters can become more personal and familiar – what does trust mean then?

I still don’t mean personal trust like the kind we have within families or friendships. To me, it’s more about the willingness to allow that kind of exchange at all, while trusting to some degree that the openness being offered will be treated with respect. It means opening a space where an encounter can happen. When you enter into that kind of exchange, you can never fully know what will grow out of it.
Who will come together there? How will people treat one another? Will boundaries be respected? How much do you want to be part of it yourself? Will the shared enthusiasm for whatever brought everyone together remain at the heart of it? And what happens when something special starts to become familiar – and perhaps even expected?

I can only ask these questions from my own perspective. I don’t actually know what it feels like from the other side, and I don’t want to pretend that I do. Maybe what feels like a small, uncomplicated interaction to one person requires much more thought from another. Maybe something I experience as easy and natural isn’t always quite so simple for the person making it possible. I can only imagine.

And maybe that uncertainty is part of why I appreciate what has been created here with the Bundy Club so much. A space has been created for something I once would have found almost impossible to imagine. A place where fans can connect with each other – but also meet people who were part of the show. We can contribute ideas, share memories, hear stories firsthand and even talk directly to people during the live Zooms.
To me, that’s far more than what I ever imagined a fan club could be. I never would have believed that one day I’d actually have the opportunity to personally tell one of the people who helped create this show what their work had meant to me.
The Bundy Club made that possible. Not through some chance encounter and not across the distance of a message, but in a space created specifically for that kind of exchange.

When I was given the chance to read my words during one of the live Zooms, something changed in me. It felt like a circle closing.
But at the same time, I was also able to let go of something I had carried with me for decades. Thoughts and feelings that had never really had anywhere to go before. Not because I expected a particular response. And not because it suddenly created some kind of personal closeness.
But because I was finally able to express what this show – and the people who created it – had meant to me for so many years.
It felt as though, after all those years, those words had finally found where they belonged. And maybe that’s why I was finally able to let go of some of them too.

When I think about trust in this context today, I keep coming back to something I already touched on when thinking about boundaries:
The closer something begins to feel, the easier it can be to forget how unusual it actually is.

I’m not exempt from that either. Maybe part of trust is being willing to look at our own expectations from time to time and remind ourselves that openness is something another person chooses to give. Because the Bundy Club has created something I once would have found almost impossible to imagine: It creates closeness without having to erase boundaries. It allows encounters without automatically turning them into an entitlement to more. And to me, that’s one of its greatest strengths. I’m incredibly grateful for the openness that is being shown to this community.

Because no one could have known beforehand how this community would develop. And maybe that gives us some responsibility on our side too. Not a responsibility to behave like perfect fans. But perhaps a responsibility to stay aware of what is being made possible for us – and not to confuse increasing familiarity with something we are automatically entitled to.

Trust isn’t something that is given once and then simply remains there. It lives in the way people treat one another. In respecting boundaries. In allowing room for things to change. And maybe also in being able to look at our own expectations from time to time.

Because that’s what feels so special to me about what has grown here:
Closeness wasn’t demanded.
Encounters were made possible.
Trust wasn’t assumed.
It was given room to grow.