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Not prone to being a "fan", more likely to roll my eyes and disparage those who are overly attached to things created for entertainment. My weakness in this aspect is the exceedingly rare occasion in which I not only strongly relate to a character and their life, but primarily to their many flaws. Ashamed of this as something that would expose weakness and invite mockery to the few people I associate with, I stand by " no one can know."

In the 1990s I was very vocal and active as a leader of a fandom, running trivia and fanfic contests, and writing my own until my erotica was well known. I learned about the inevitable backlash of being worshipped, and made a habit of packing up and slipping away only informing my closest allies. No one would have guessed I was a 12-15 year old with no experience regarding the sexual aspects of fanfic I was so praised for. Every new story was a gamble, writing what a passionate but not conventionally romantic me wanted to do and have done with the imaginary person who "got it", having no idea if it was something people even thought of or if I was a massive pervert. Fortunately, my intuition in these matters was precocious and ahead of it's time, thus reached many people afraid to admit their own predilections. Certainly no one would have guessed that jaded, untouchable, invulnerable cult hero of my slice of the Internet fandom subculture was a shy, bitter, friendless girl trapped in a house of every kind of abuse, bullying, and subtle attrition of self worth leads to inevitable alienation.
Tall, lanky, scrawny, and pale with super-straight ultra fine dark hair and nearly black eyes combined with the wrong clothing and no idea what to do with makeup made for the worst thing you could be in a small town of southern baptist hypocrisy...an ugly girl. Later when I was "hot", I greeted the attention with resentment; the memory of how differently the same people would treat me if I had been ugly as clear today as they were at 14 having rocks thrown at me for walking through certain areas I couldn't avoid in order to get to class.

Years later, I don't even have those few allies, I simply lurk beyond the usual definition of a lurker. I have rebut for years, comment under different identities as I forget passwords, but I do not lie. Likely to be published soon via an autobiography that is looking like it may be more than entirely obscure, my privacy may explode in my face much sooner than I would like. May have to get bitten by a giant snake and disappear.

In the meantime it is safe to assume I have read it, and if approached I tend to respond as a Snape would. If I ever met such a person, we would undoubtably run each other off as in so many stories. With no Harry to pursue, push, and make himself unavoidable, It is simply too late for some people.