“Chosen”

The Pull: A County Fair, A Hypnotist, and the Psychology of Suggestion

The smell of elephant ears mixed with smoky grill lines drifted through the fairgrounds. Sun beating down, bleachers half-full with locals in trucker caps and T-shirts that said what side they were on, even without needing to say it.

Somewhere near the cotton candy stand, a family paused and sincerely thanked a uniformed Marine. The man they thanked was younger, of a minority race, and I couldn't help but notice the way their appreciation lingered. It felt earnest, but also out of place somehow, like a ritual being performed more than a connection truly felt. One of those strange, surreal little moments that sticks to your skin for the rest of the day.

And then the hypnotist took the stage.

He came in smiling, magnetic in the way performers often are. Comfortable in his skin, sharp in timing, and just suggestive enough to feel like he might know more than he was letting on. There's something about people like this that makes you want to lean in, even when you know better.

He opened with humor. Casual banter. Then invited volunteers to the stage: eight people, men and women alike, some clearly married, some not. As they sank into trance, he gave them a curious command: "When I turn my back, you will all gossip about how ugly I am."

And they did. Without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then came the twist. As pre-suggested, when he turned back around and pointed at each of them, romantic music began to play. One by one, they rose to dance with him. Slowly, lovingly, eyes softened in adoration, as if they'd suddenly fallen for the very man they were just mocking. The transformation was instant and complete.

The audience roared with laughter. But I sat there, quietly, watching something else unfold.

A Glance That Lingers

I had come in late, walking across the top bleachers wearing a bright neon shirt that made me easy to spot. As I passed behind the crowd, he called out, "That's alright, sir, get settled in!"

I didn't look to see if he meant me. I knew I didn't fit that address, but it snagged my attention anyway.

And then, as the show rolled on, I noticed him glancing back toward me up in the far left corner. Saying words that felt almost directed. Too specific. Too timed.

I turned to watch the acrobats next door for a moment, needing a break from whatever was happening. And just then, the hypnotist mentioned how the mind can wander, how distraction can be a part of trance.

The coincidence felt deliberate.

Something tightened in my chest.

That was the moment I felt the pull.

It wasn't overwhelming. Just a tug. But it was familiar in the worst way. The same pull I'd once felt in a church revival, when a preacher whipped people into standing, hands raised, hearts open, and I found myself halfway to the altar to be saved before I could even question why.

The same pull that once told me I was "the chosen one," meant to marry a man who turned out to have a hidden network of women and some men all believing the same thing.

And here it was again. Triggered by a suggestion made to others, but rippling through me like a spell cast wide. My body responding to something my mind hadn't even consciously registered.

If you've ever felt this, you know how disorienting it is. How your rational brain can be shouting warnings while your body leans forward anyway, drawn by something you can't quite name.

This Is How It Works

He didn't name me. He didn't touch me. He didn't even look directly at me most of the time.

But the combination of group trance, public performance, sexual tension, and subconscious suggestion is a formula that can hit harder than reason knows how to fight.

It's designed to bypass your defenses entirely.

And I wasn't even on stage.

Maybe you've felt this too. In a job interview where the boss seemed to see something special in you. In a spiritual community where the leader had a particular way of making eye contact. In a relationship where someone made you feel chosen, seen, destined for something bigger.

The pull doesn't always look like a hypnotist or a cult leader. Sometimes it looks like a mentor who believes in your "potential." Sometimes it's a therapist who suggests you're more evolved than other clients. Sometimes it's a friend who hints that you two have a connection others wouldn't understand.

The common thread? That feeling of being singled out for something sacred.

The Illusion of Being Chosen

Later that night, I looked him up.

His social media was filled with videos of the same routine. Different people in different towns. Men and women being guided into "gossip," then gently seduced into romantic dances with him on camera. Some tried to grab him. Some giggled with delight. Others looked dazed, as if caught between trance and real longing.

And in every clip, the same illusion: They each looked like they were the one. The one he saw. The one he chose. The one who mattered.

It struck me deeply, how easy it is to believe you're special when someone crafts an experience to feel that way. How easy it is to confuse a script for fate.

I thought about all the times I'd felt special. Chosen. Called. How convinced I'd been that what I was experiencing was unique, unprecedented, meant just for me.

Maybe you've been there too. That moment when someone makes you feel like you're the exception to their usual rules. Like your connection transcends the ordinary. Like you've been selected for something others couldn't handle or wouldn't understand.

It's intoxicating. And it's almost always a lie.

The Architecture of the Harem

This is how harems are built. Not with promises, but with patterns.

A soft smile here. A look that lingers. A suggestion dropped like a secret. Each person believes the affection is personal, the intimacy real. Not realizing that what feels "meant just for you" was also meant for the woman before you. And the man before her.

I've been caught in that web before. The sense of being chosen, held, fated. Only to later realize that the same words, the same tone, the same glance had been cast across a dozen others like a fisherman throwing a net.

Back then, I called it love. Now I call it choreography.

If this sounds familiar, please know: you're not naive for falling for it. These people are professionals at making others feel special. They've studied what works. They know exactly which buttons to push and when.

The shame you might feel about being "fooled" is part of the trap. It keeps you isolated, convinced you're the only one who fell for such an obvious trick. But the trick wasn't obvious. It was sophisticated. And you weren't the only one.

Social Proof and Quiet Rivalry

Watching from the bleachers, I wondered if anyone else felt it too. That flicker of wanting to be the one called forward. The chosen one. Not just hypnotized, but favored. Desired.

That's the quiet gravity of this kind of performance. Even those of us not on stage are being pulled into the orbit, wondering what it means if he looks at us a certain way. Or doesn't.

Affection becomes contagious. Intimacy gets mirrored. And suddenly, even absurd behavior feels sacred, like an emotional revival disguised as comedy.

I noticed how the audience responded differently to different volunteers. Who they laughed at. Who they watched with something closer to envy. There's a hierarchy even in exploitation, and somehow we all sense where we might fall in it.

When the Pull Becomes Dangerous

What happens when someone in the audience, conservative, maybe even deeply homophobic, sees themselves later in a clip, dancing lovingly with a man, under trance? What happens when that same person goes home to a community that doesn't believe in hypnosis, or in softness, or in contradiction?

What happens when they're left trying to reconcile behavior that felt real in their body but foreign to their conscious mind?

What happens when they don't fully "wake up" after the show?

These are the ethics of suggestion. And they don't end with a bow.

They follow you to your car, into your dreams, into the quiet moments when you're trying to figure out what you actually felt versus what you were made to feel.

I've carried pieces of other people's suggestions for years without realizing it. Beliefs about myself that weren't mine. Desires that were planted. Shame about things I never chose to want.

If you're reading this and recognize yourself in any of these patterns, know that disentangling what's yours from what was programmed into you takes time. Be patient with yourself. The confusion is real. The recovery is possible.

When It Feels Real but Isn't

It's easy to laugh at stage hypnosis, to treat it like harmless carnival fun.

But if you've ever felt the pull of charisma, of trance, of being "the chosen one," then you know it's not a joke.

It's chemical. Psychological. Somatic.

It bypasses the mind and goes straight to the body, creating responses that feel authentic even when they're manufactured.

Your body doesn't lie, but it can be lied to. When someone skilled in manipulation creates the right conditions, your nervous system responds as if the connection is real, the danger is absent, the specialness is genuine.

This isn't your fault. It's biology. We're wired to respond to certain cues, to trust certain signals. Manipulative people study these responses and exploit them.

I've learned to watch for it now. To recognize when someone is casting a net instead of holding a hand. To notice the difference between genuine connection and skillful manipulation, even when the manipulation feels good.

And I've learned to ask: "Is this real connection, or a trick of the light?"

Signs You Might Recognize

The pull often comes with certain feelings:

• A sense that this person sees the "real you" that others miss

• Belief that your connection is deeper or more significant than their other relationships

• Feeling chosen for something special, healing, or transformative

• A subtle pressure to prove you're worthy of their attention

• Confusion about your own boundaries or desires when you're around them

• A feeling that leaving would mean missing your one chance at something extraordinary

These feelings aren't wrong. But they might be manufactured.

Real connection doesn't require you to abandon your intuition or ignore red flags. It doesn't make you feel like you're auditioning for love. It doesn't leave you questioning your own perceptions or carrying shame about desires that emerged from nowhere.

Finding Your Way Back

If you've been caught in these patterns, the way out isn't through shame or self-blame. It's through recognition, boundaries, and community.

Talk to people you trust about what you experienced. Often, the spell breaks when you say it out loud to someone who can reflect back what they're hearing without judgment.

Trust your body's initial reactions, even when your mind is being convinced otherwise. That tightness in your chest, that sudden urge to leave, that feeling of being watched or performed for - these are data points worth honoring.

And remember: you are not responsible for other people's manipulation tactics. You are only responsible for learning to recognize them and protecting yourself going forward.

Gentle Question for You

Have you ever felt that strange pull, the moment your body leans in before your mind catches up?

What helped you step back into yourself when it happened?

If you're still untangling what was real from what was manufactured, know that you're not alone in that work. Many of us are learning to trust ourselves again after being taught to doubt our own perceptions.

Your healing matters. Your boundaries matter. And your ability to recognize these patterns will help protect not just you, but others who might be vulnerable to the same techniques.

The pull is real. But so is your power to resist it.