The Psychology of 'Gloomyhara': How Tamon's B-Side Exposes Idol Industry's Dark Side

The idol industry sells perfection. Flawless skin. Choreographed smiles. Voices that never crack. And behind it all? Human beings who are absolutely, catastrophically not okay.

Tamon's B-Side (Tamon-kun Ima Docchi!?) doesn't just hint at this. It puts it center stage—literally splitting its protagonist into two personas and asking: which one is real?

The A-Side/B-Side Metaphor (It's Not Subtle, But It Works)

In music, the A-Side is the hit single. The polished track designed to sell. The B-Side? That's the experimental stuff. The raw demos. The songs the artist actually cared about but the label buried.

Tamon Fukuhara lives this metaphor:

• A-Side ("Hottiehara"): The sexy, confident idol persona. The one plastered on billboards. The one that makes fans scream.
• B-Side ("Gloomyhara"): The real Tamon. Anxious. Negative. Convinced everyone will abandon him the moment they see who he really is.

The show doesn't treat this as a cute quirk. It treats it as a survival mechanism. Tamon didn't choose to be two people; the industry demanded it.

"Gloomyhara" Isn't Comedy—It's a Case Study

Some critics have called Tamon's anxiety portrayal "comedic" or "played for laughs." And sure, there are funny moments.

But look closer.

Tamon's behavior checks boxes that any psychology textbook would recognize:

1. Catastrophic thinking: He assumes the worst outcome in every interaction. Meeting a fan? They'll definitely hate him. Performing? He'll definitely fail.
2. Impostor syndrome on steroids: His entire career is built on a persona he feels is fake. Every success feels unearned. Every compliment feels like a lie waiting to be exposed.
3. Avoidance coping: Why does he hide his true self? Because vulnerability equals rejection in his mind. Better to be a fictional character than risk being truly seen.

The show depicts these patterns with uncomfortable accuracy. If you've ever dealt with social anxiety, watching Tamon spiral feels less like entertainment and more like looking in a mirror 💀.

The Industry Built This (And Profits From It)

Here's the part that stings.

Tamon didn't invent "Hottiehara." His agency did. They looked at a teenage boy with crippling insecurity and said, "We can work with this—just hide it."

The anime doesn't demonize the industry outright, but it also doesn't let it off the hook. The implication is clear: idols are products. And products don't get to have bad days.

Real-world parallels are impossible to ignore. K-pop documentaries have exposed similar dynamics. Japanese idol culture has its own horror stories. Tamon's B-Side is fiction, but the anxiety it portrays is backed by decades of documented mental health crises in entertainment.

Utage: The Support System He Never Asked For

Enter Utage Kinoshita—superfan turned accidental housekeeper.

What makes Utage work as a character isn't that she "fixes" Tamon. She doesn't. She can't. Mental health doesn't work that way, and the show knows it.

Instead, Utage does something simpler and arguably harder: she stays.

• She doesn't run when she sees "Gloomyhara."
• She doesn't try to therapize him.
• She doesn't demand he "be positive."

She just... exists in his space. Consistently. Without judgment.

For anyone who's ever needed someone to just be there without expectations, Utage's approach is quietly revolutionary. She's not a manic pixie dream girl. She's a presence that says, "You're allowed to be this version of yourself, and I'm not leaving."

The Slow-Burn Recovery (Don't Call It a Redemption Arc)

Three episodes in, and Tamon isn't "fixed." Good.

The show is clearly playing the long game. Tamon's development is glacial—because real change is glacial. He's not suddenly confident after a pep talk. He's incrementally, painfully learning that maybe, possibly, he won't be abandoned if someone sees the real him.

That's not dramatic. But it's honest.

Compare this to other anime that tackle mental health with grand gestures and sudden revelations. Tamon's B-Side refuses that shortcut. It's committed to showing the unsexy, repetitive work of learning to believe you're worth something.

Why This Matters (Beyond Entertainment)

Representation matters. We say it all the time, but here's what it actually means:

Somewhere, right now, an idol fan is watching Tamon's B-Side and recognizing their own anxiety in a fictional character. That recognition—the feeling of "oh, someone gets it"—is powerful.

More importantly, the show's message isn't "anxiety makes you broken." It's "anxiety is a thing you carry, and you can still be loved while carrying it."

That's not a cure. But it's a start.

Related Reading

If you're into the K-pop crossover angle of this anime, check out our companion piece: Why K-Pop Stans Are Obsessing Over Tamon's B-Side.

For a full review with scores and breakdown, read our Tamon-kun Ima Docchi!? Review: Gap Moe Comedy Gold.

The Verdict

Tamon's B-Side isn't going to win awards for animation or action. It's a quiet character study dressed up as a shoujo romance.

But for viewers who've ever felt like they're performing a version of themselves that isn't real—who've ever wondered if people would stay if they saw the "B-Side"—this show is therapy disguised as entertainment.

Watch it. Let "Gloomyhara" remind you that the polished version the world sees isn't the only version that deserves love.