The “How I Met Your Mother” Secret Formula

Why is "How I Met Your Mother" so popular? The answer, I believe, loosely relates to issues of addiction theory, the need for fantasy and the show "Friends." Let's start with the last point. It's been awhile but I'd like you to recall the show, not so much the specific plot points or character types, but its enduringly popular nature. From television ratings to Emmy awards to zeitgeist impact, the show achieved unprecedented success. A logical implication to draw from this fact is that "Friends" uncovered a business model of irresistible psychological appeal. What else would explain why millions of people glued themselves to the weekly broadcasts of silliness for more than a decade?

The reason I am putting on my television critic's hat and dusting off "Friends" is because I believe the increasingly popular "How I Met Your Mother" is channeling and fine-tuning the same psychological business model. I should add that this formula is specific to a show's genre and target population. What makes "24" successful is very different than what induces success for shows like "Friends" and "How I Met Your Mother," as is the audience that tunes in to "The Hills." To discuss the "Friends" lineage is to discuss a genre of television that I will define as comedic sit-com candy of which Generation Y is the primary demographic (details:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Generation_Y).

These types of shows are designed to provide a comfortable, temporary escape from a challenging, sometimes overwhelming reality. This is obvious. What is not obvious and is, in fact, exceedingly complicated is how to pull off the perfect degree of escapism so that we really like what we are escaping into but are not left feeling worse about the reality from which we are fleeing.

I sense that the optimally functioning show plays a psychological trick on us. We are first provided with our psychological comfort food - characters that we immediately recognize and appreciate as ourselves. This cast of likable everymen fosters a desire to better understand and connect with them, just as we'd do with any potential friend or significant other (the creators of "Friends," don't seem to care for subtlety). This is the driving urge behind tuning in for subsequent weeks and seasons. If my premise is correct then on some level we as viewers are pursuing and expecting a friendship with the characters in some fuzzy, metaphorical way. This renders the show immediately susceptible to a few vulnerabilities, namely that this friendship is doomed to be one-sided and can quickly become disengaging. We may begin to remember that we are merely viewers of a show whose real lives are now being neglected due to aimless, popcorn entertainment.

So, our interests have to be piqued, we have to be offered certain promises and goals to subconsciously digest. We are hooked by the pseudo-interpersonal connection, but we begin to get reeled in by the next part, the notion of a better life. Slowly we begin to aspire toward living the type of life exuded by the characters, we strive to embody their experiences. Much of "Friends" appeals to the sillier, immature aspects of our nature and yet if you ask any member of Generation Y whether he/she likes the idea of moving into a Manhattan apartment with a group of friends to live out their twenties you will be met with unregulated glee and desperation.

We want the enduring, meaningful friendships, the enjoyable professions, the adventuress social experiences and the expanding sense of autonomy and confidence. This is why "How I Met Your Mother" features a likable, single architect, a committed lawyer and kindergarten teacher couple, a resilient local television journalist and a socially ambitious businessman. We have no trouble falling in love with these characters because they each represent separate aspirations within us that, in reality, collide and conflict. We want a life of independence and excitement so we can root for Ted but we also want unbreakable intimacy with another so we enjoy Lilly and Marshall. And our connection to each character is strengthened each episode, like any good addiction, with themes that reflect engagement, meaning, social support - critical ingredients of what Seligman & Peterson term "The Good Life."

Now, I'm reeled in. The characters love each other, I love that they love each other and what's more is I'm vaguely aware of an intense desire to visit McLaren's Bar (or Central Perk for that matter). But there is a third part to this equation. A quick fix fantasy will not suffice over the long haul. The fantasy world that "How I Met Your Mother" is providing must therefore possess staying power. There is only one way for fantasies to become enhanced over time. They must offer the promise of reality. Is not a fantasy that becomes a reality the most psychologically gratifying experience? As a brief aside I dare any reader to one-up this assertion!

To create a fantasy that we aspire to while offering hints of a reality that we can plausibly achieve is to toe a fine line between reality and fantasy. We must somehow acknowledge that the characters live better lives than us without getting jealous or pissy. Thus, the show must dance back and forth between reality and fantasy in an attempt to appease our fickle imaginations and make us feel like the show's reality might one day become our own, but not really. This argument only works if we keep it strictly subconscious. Makes it hard to argue with me I know. The very premise of "How I Met Your Mother" initiates this dance as the show is basically a series of events that Ted, the protagonist, is describing in retrospect to his teenage children decades down the road. Ted is, of course, pure fantasy, but his children feel like they might be reality. Ted could be talking to us. More recent evidence of this dance surfaced in the past week. You may have noticed that Barney, the praise-addicted side character, appeared in a real super bowl commercial that did not acknowledge his fantastical existence. The show's plot line that following Monday depicted Barney in psychological overdose mode reacting to the stampede of hot, young singles who saw his "super bowl presence." Fiction treated as reality treated as fiction.

With this reality-fantasy machine perpetually humming away beneath our subconscious, the tendency to make connections, draw parallels and analyze differences between the show and our own lives is reinforced and perpetuated to the point that we might begin to use the show as a barometer for personal success, view the characters as guideposts to living the life we always wanted. Now that is what I call a recipe for good ratings!