30. Kieran
KIERAN
Present Day
Producer: “What are you hoping to find in a partner?”
Kieran: “I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I’ve accomplished a lot, but at the end of the day, there’s no one to share it with.
I’d love to meet someone who can handle the attention I get from fans, my busy schedule, and that part of my life will always be public.
But who also gives me space to be vulnerable when we’re alone.
Someone who loves me, not their online perception of me. ”
This is going to be the longest I’ve been without my phone since I first got one in high school.
It feels melodramatic to even be thinking about it while I’m here, preparing to begin filming Love Without Labels, the reality TV show I signed up for. I should be focused on what’s happening around me or if I’ll meet the one, but all I can think about is how much I’m already missing social media.
It will be worth it, I remind myself.
My fans know I’m taking a mini hiatus—I posted about it right before they took my phone.
I knew I’d have to give it up to be here, but I feel naked without it as one of the show’s producers, Mitch, leads me through the hallway to my new room.
We stop in front of a door that’s painted like the LGBTQIA+ flag, and he unlocks it to reveal an apartment covered in even more rainbow decor.
It’s fitting, affirming even, for a queer dating show, but it’s definitely not my personal style.
I wouldn’t consider myself to be fully emo by any means, but ever since Halloween senior year of high school, I’ve been drawn to a darker, more masc look. Even when I make videos about other styles, there’s usually a masculine undertone that feels like my most authentic form of self-expression.
Still, I’ve never changed my brand name: Sparkles.
It doesn’t really match who I am now—it hasn’t for a while—but I like that.
I like that it makes people think twice when they see the name, then see me.
It challenges their assumptions before I even say a word because you can be grounded and still glitter, dark and soft, confident and healing all at once.
That’s kind of the point of being alive—to keep evolving, becoming more of who you really are.
Maybe that’s why I’ve kept the name all these years. Because Sparkles reminds me where I came from, who I was when I was with him, and who I refuse to stop being now.
“Kieran? Does that sounds good?” Mitch draws my attention back to him.
“Uh, yeah,” I confirm.
He jumps right into talking about where my mic pack will go and how he’ll grab me to record my intro session after I “settle in,” but my brain is still only half here.
I think it’s finally hitting me that I’m actually on the show.
I keep my expression neutral, but my thoughts have officially shifted into “holy shit, I’m actually doing this” territory as I look around the room.
Up until now, I’ve pretty much just daydreamed about falling in love, especially with someone who doesn’t know anything about my career.
I’ve been picturing who I might meet here, and what we can talk about that won’t give away any of the “labels” the show wants to remain hidden while we’re in the blind dating portion the first week.
I’ve been so focused on the unique opportunity, after so many failed relationship attempts, that I’ve kind of ignored how vulnerable this would all make me feel.
It’s one thing to sign up for something like this, but it’s another to actually be here, talking to producers, being shown my room, noticing the cameras that are strategically “hidden” throughout the space to record every single moment in the place where I might meet my future spouse.
It all has my nerves escalating because if I meet someone on this show, it won’t be private. It can’t be.
None of what I do or say here will be private.
And that’s terrifying.
I may live in the public eye, but I’m used to being the one with all the control.
I decide what content makes the final cut in my videos, what events to go to, what products to endorse, just how much of me the internet gets to see.
After over a decade of content creation, I’ve still never put a single relationship online for my followers to dissect. Not once.
Every time I’ve been asked why, I’ve claimed it’s out of my desire to keep something for myself—and that’s true—but the bigger truth is, I’ve never been confident anyone has actually wanted me.
Not the version they see on camera or the public name attached to my brand, but Kieran, the actual person.
My last partner dumped me because I wouldn’t “hard launch” them on my socials.
They swore it was about wanting to feel chosen, but deep down, I knew what it was—they wanted the exposure.
The clout. They wanted to be the person dating Sparkles, far more than they ever actually wanted to date Kieran.
And when I said not yet, they broke up with me and dated someone they met through me.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time.
People assume once someone is successful, that they become somehow untouchable, impervious to negativity. But the bullying never stops online, and, for me at least, the loneliness has never fully gone away.
I’ve accomplished so many things I never thought would be possible when I started my channel out of spite in my childhood bedroom.
I love that I’m able to make a living expressing myself with makeup and fashion, and sharing the joy it’s brought me with the world.
I live in an incredible four-bedroom condo in New York City, my best friend works with me, so we hang out all the time, and I know I’m biased, but I’m pretty confident I have the cutest cat ever.
I just wish that I had someone to share the life I’ve built with.
Danny always sends me photos with his husband and their baby, and while I don’t want a baby, the husband part seems really nice. He’s out in the suburbs, and whenever I get to see them, I can feel how happy they are.
Meanwhile, I’ve struggled to know who I can trust enough to even try. I learned a long time ago to be suspicious of anyone who suddenly decides they want me around, and the years have only proven I was right to remain cautious.
Jace was my first lesson. I couldn’t fully process my feelings for him when I was eighteen, but now that I’ve had space, I can admit he completely broke my heart.
Jace pretended to see me, to want me, only to crush me the second it stopped serving him.
It took me longer than I’d like to admit to get over him, which is embarrassing considering how cruel he was before we ever hooked up and that we never even dated.
Now, unlike Jace, instead of people wanting to hide away their connection with me, they’re overly eager to smile at my side for the camera. But I know they wouldn’t look twice at me if I had twenty followers instead of over twenty million.
That’s why I’m here.
Because Love Without Labels is anonymous.
The other contestants won’t know my name, my handle, or my follower count. No one can look me up before the first date. The people who are on this show are all here seeking a true connection, the same way I am.
It’s ironic, really, that I signed up to be filmed even more than usual in an effort to find someone who could love me for who I am off camera. But, I think it might actually work.
I just hope the risk will be worth it. I know the show wants the most entertaining TV, not necessarily the reality of what happens. I can only hope I’m portrayed positively in their editing and that I didn’t accidentally dig my own grave for my brand by coming on this show.
Mitch is still talking, and I realize I’ve completely zoned out, but I had to fill out a novel’s worth of paperwork with my lawyer and sit through so many preproduction calls that none of this is new information anyway.
“Any questions?” he asks with a producer’s smile that says don’t actually ask me anything that’ll make my job harder.
“I think I’m good,” I confirm with a smile, trying to stay on his good side.
“Alright, great! Your show phone is on the coffee table. It’s all set up with approved apps you’re allowed to use.
Right now, it’s just the show app with updates and instructions, a weather app, a news app, and our streaming app if you’d like to watch TV.
When you reach the point of matching with the other participants, you’ll be able to start messaging them.
For now, you can start working on your vibe board with the instructions on the TV.
We’ll approve it before tomorrow, and I’ll come get you to do some interview questions shortly.
See you soon, Kieran! We’re excited to have you here. ”
I pick up the iPhone the show’s set up for me, but the lack of social media makes it feel like a prop and does nothing to ease my withdrawal from the real thing.
Maybe creating this vibe board will be a welcome distraction.
I make my way over to the couch, noticing a “hidden” camera over the television, so I make sure to set myself up with flattering angles as I get comfortable.
There’s a mirror option for the TV I remember Mitch mentioning, so I set that up before clicking into an app with two overlapping hearts for its icon.
The instructions appear on the screen, and I read them aloud so that the audience can hear them too, just like I was told to do.
“Welcome to your vibe board. Please take the time to add some information about you for your fellow contestants to see during your blind dates. This can include images of anything you would like to use to describe your ‘vibe’ that will be shown on your feed. All boards will be approved by the producers prior to the first blind dates to avoid any identifying information being given.”
Most people might find it strange to narrate what they’re doing, but I’ve been making content for far too long for any of this to even faze me.
I get to work going through their stock photo options which are pretty basic.
“I definitely need to add makeup on here,” I say to the room. “These are all generic but they’ll do. Hmm, what else?”
Huh. Without social media to mindlessly scroll or my next video to worry about planning, I’m realizing just how few hobbies I have. I have no idea what else I could possibly add to this vibe board.
“Adding a photo of my cat, or close to it, makes sense,” I say out loud, thinking of Freddie.
“Hmm, what else?” I consider out loud. “I should probably add video recording related items too. I could only imagine inviting someone I match with here to my house and them being shocked to see I have a whole recording studio set up.”
There aren’t many good options, but I do what I can, even though it feels like there’s still so much whitespace.
I used to paint in my free time before I really got into makeup. I’d spent a lot of my time sketching and experimenting with different types of acrylics and oil paints. The lighting that I’d obsessed over when I was painting made picking up highlights and contouring a breeze.
I actually have a few sketchbooks and watercolors hidden away in a cabinet in my room.
No one knows about that, not even my best friend—I don’t want her suggesting I use my art for content.
It’s something just for me, and I usually only resort to pulling them out when I’m feeling especially alone.
With so much of my life online, it feels good to keep it for myself.
But I’m here to find someone to share my life with.
And I don’t think I can do that if I’m holding even more parts of myself back when so much needs to remain hidden for the show’s setup.
It doesn’t need to be a big deal, I can add it with other things, and no one but me will ever know that this feels like a big moment.
“A couple more makeup items won’t hurt. I’ll add some art supplies and a photo of New York, too.” I step back to look at it and decide it’s good enough.
By the time I’m finished, I’m back to being excited about this whole plan. I love the idea of remaining anonymous and building an actual connection with someone, and seeing the ways they’re setting us up to do so makes it seem like it’s really possible.
I have a good feeling about this. I think I could really leave this show with the partner I’ve been daydreaming about.