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In the video I鈥檓 watching, titled 鈥�,鈥� (not to be confused with 鈥淵ou can get your ex back,鈥� or, 鈥淓x鈥檚 (sic) come back鈥�) Urban is explaining why it鈥檚 important to stay positive after a breakup. 鈥淲hat you鈥檙e doing physically is not as important as what you鈥檙e doing energy wise,鈥� she says. 鈥淵ou have to be giving off the right energy for your ex to feel it if you want them back. Hence why this video is only for if you want your ex back. If you don鈥檛, keep scrolling.鈥�

It’s striking how quickly the algorithm knows you鈥檝e been dumped. I first started to see these videos several years ago, when a twenty-six-year-old EDM acolyte suddenly cut the cord with me over a Google call while eating a breakfast sandwich. Within days of a breakup that hit me harder than it should鈥檝e, I was seeing a steady stream of TikTok and Instagram videos made by influencers promising to help me recover, move forward or, surprisingly often, get my ex back. Intellectually, I found the idea behind it all at least a little bit gross. My scroll was suddenly dominated by algorithmically-optimized self-help gurus telling me to break off contact, become a better version of myself, and use other to make my ex come back. At the same time, I found myself surprisingly drawn to the videos.

To understand why, I spent weeks digging into the ex-back world, bingeing videos and speaking to coaches. I zoomed out from the to contemplate an entire cottage industry premised on the idea that other people鈥檚 heartbreaks can be an opportunity for profit.

What I found surprised me. I had assumed going in that most ex-back influencers were hucksters peddling snake oil to the emotionally vulnerable. I鈥檓 still sure some of them are. But the most shocking thing I found in all my research was that, while I don鈥檛 love the idea of ex-back influencing, I did quite like the influencers I spoke to. They were, by and large, the one thing I never expected them to be: sincere.

Ex-back content isn鈥檛 niche. Canadian , a who goes by both 鈥淏reakup Brad鈥� and 鈥淭he Ex Back Geek,鈥� has more than 600,000 followers on YouTube. He claims to have reunited 130,000 couples. His videos, on that platform alone, have been viewed more than one hundred million times. Benny Lichtenwalner, AKA 鈥淐oach Benny,鈥� is the host of the 鈥溾�� podcast. He has more than 330,000 TikTok followers and charges US$399 for one-on-one ex-back strategy sessions. , a trained psychotherapist, standup comedian and self-described 鈥渞elationship Yoda,鈥� puts out clips with titles like 鈥淗ow to make your ex miss you,鈥� 鈥淔rom broken up to chasing you,鈥� and 鈥淓xes come back when you ignore them.鈥� Many of his videos have more than 200,000 views each, which is the same as the

Influencers differ in their approaches, but most offer the same key strategies for navigating a breakup. The most important is a period of 鈥渘o contact鈥� following the split. During this stretch, the dumpee is supposed to cease all communication with their ex. Influencers will coach their clients on how to navigate the sudden rupture, offering advice on everything from what kinds of photos to post on Instagram to how to limit contact if you share children.

Most creators lean on a pastiche of and other 鈥渢herapy speak鈥� to explain their approaches. As a child of trained therapists, I find that troubling. Relationship coaching isn鈥檛 regulated in Canada or the United States. While professional therapy contains its own exploitative histories, untrained advice 鈥� even delivered authentically with harmless intentions 鈥� can be actively damaging to the emotionally vulnerable.

Part of the problem with breakups is the unknown. Facing the void of limited to absent contact with an ex-partner, the search for answers can become obsessive and unsatisfying. Why did this happen? More specifically, why did this happen to me? What might I have done differently? What can I do now?

When I鈥檝e been dumped, I鈥檝e found the desire to understand my breakups incredibly potent. It鈥檚 a kind of desperate fixation. I get why someone feeling that way might shell out hundreds of dollars 鈥� or more 鈥� to anyone offering answers. At the same time, I鈥檒l admit to being skeptical that any advice encapsulated in a 90-second video fuelled by the same algorithmic scrolling technologies that empower addictive parasocial relationships with OnlyFans models, weight loss influencers, , and the manosphere could be an enriching part of anyone鈥檚 self-help journey.

A video call with Instagram coach , sitting in front of聽a soothing grey wall, punctured some of my surface impressions. Kollet鈥檚聽gritty but warm Rhode Island accent was instantly recognizable from the countless videos I鈥檇 watched recorded in that very room. Kollet is older than the typical manicured 20 or 30-something influencer. That and the nuance of her advice had led me to assume she was a seasoned mental health professional. Instead, Kollet told me she had no formal therapeutic training at all. She owned a dry-cleaning business for decades. 鈥淚t鈥檚 funny,鈥� she said, 鈥渕y sons would always say to me, people come into the cleaners just to talk to you about their problems.鈥�

After Kollet was blindsided by the end of her 30-year marriage, her son encouraged her to start sharing her feelings online. What started as a process to simply survive the divorce shifted when she found herself being approached by equally devastated peers for advice. 鈥淐ontent creators that bring value are the ones that have something to say. They鈥檝e been through some stuff,鈥� Kollet said.

Kollet told me she doesn鈥檛 view her lack of credentials as limiting, Instead, she stressed the importance of transparency in a coaching relationship. She painted her clients as smart consumers capable of making their own decisions about whether or not to work with someone they found on TikTok.

Kollet鈥檚 videos mostly promote self-compassion. Instead of promising viewers she can help them lure their exes back, Kollet tries to help them through the painful day-to-day of the post-breakup fugue. But not every influencer is that restrained.

When I spoke to ex back expert Ashley Urban 鈥� Coach Ashley, as she鈥檚 known to her followers 鈥� she said that, like Kollet, she was inspired to make content after a painful breakup. After getting dumped, she found herself sitting up in bed at night arrested by a thought that would become her mantra as an influencer: 鈥淭hey always come back.鈥�

Urban鈥檚 ex really did come back, though things didn鈥檛 work out any better the second time around. If Kollet allayed some of my skepticism about -ing, Urban reinforced it. Urban told me that, like Kollet, she鈥檚 self-taught. She built her coaching methodologies on a mix of informal research into attachment theory and what she described as 鈥渓ike a God-given sixth sense鈥� about the dynamics of other people鈥檚 relationships. At one point, when I pressed her about her approach she shrugged her shoulders: 鈥淚鈥檒l get vibes.鈥�

Urban shared my fascination with the ways technology has made breakups increasingly complex, but to my mind, many of her ex-back tactics encourage more overthinking than healing. 鈥淚t鈥檚 subliminal these things exes do,鈥� she said. 鈥淭he blocking, the unblocking, the adding 鈥� all that stuff is so on purpose and it鈥檚 almost trying to send a message across.鈥� Urban told me it鈥檚 important to break off contact and act aloof after a split because your ex can 鈥渇eel energy鈥� off you. At the same time, her coaching strategy involves analyzing everything exes do online and IRL. I don鈥檛 know how any dumpee is supposed to develop a healthy relationship with themselves or to reality if they鈥檙e fixated on their ex鈥檚 every movement. When I asked Urban how she felt about critics of her profession, she smiled. 鈥淭hat’s just going to come with a territory,鈥� she said. 鈥淚 don’t see it as a false hope. This is just another angle. If this is something that you want, I can help you with that. If you don’t believe in that, then keep scrolling.鈥�

I don鈥檛 think Urban operates with any malicious intent. Like many millennials, she just wants to earn an income while doing 鈥済ood work.鈥� She told me the most rewarding part of her job is helping people and making them feel better. But watching her videos 鈥� with their endless fixation on coaxing back someone who has already made it clear they want to move on 鈥� I wondered who was supposed to be feeling good, the audience or the creator?

a breakup coach with almost 400,000 TikTok followers, has recently veered away from ex-back content. Today, the former pre-med student鈥檚 videos focus more on general breakup guidance, in part, he told me, because of his own ethical concerns. Like most other content creators I spoke to, Zesiger got into the ex-back industry after his own breakup, or in his case two of them, an early marriage followed by an unsuccessful rebound. In the immediate aftermath of these splits, Zesiger says he watched 鈥減robably, like seven hours a day of getting your ex-back (videos).鈥�

鈥淗onestly, at the beginning, I just kind of parroted what the YouTube guys told me to,鈥� Zesiger said. Today, his content focuses as much on moving on from breakups as it does in getting exes back. Zesiger himself has also moved on. He recently remarried. When we spoke over video, his newborn son was napping in the next room.

I asked Zesiger how he feels now about the ex-back genre. 鈥淚鈥檓 not as warm as I used to be,鈥� he said. At the same time, he knows what sells online. His own analytics show his videos perform best when they focus on topics like 鈥渨hat is your ex thinking?鈥� or, in his words, concepts that 鈥減eople can鈥檛 actually do anything with, but that makes them feel like they have more control.鈥�

In our conversation, Zesiger described a phenomenon I鈥檇 also noticed: the more you watch ex-back content, the more it consumes your entire feed. That鈥檚 the way the algorithm works. It鈥檚 designed to show you more of whatever you want. Zesiger believes some online videos can be a 鈥渂ooster engine鈥� for self-improvement. But he also sees the risks. Once you鈥檙e caught in the scroll, you can end up binging breakup content non-stop, stuck in an endless stream of clips that invite rumination and self-scrutiny instead of progress.

has been making breakup advice videos since before the advent of TikTok and Instagram Stories. The rise of short form content has been a game changer in the field, he told me in a video call he took from the driver鈥檚 seat of a golf cart careening over a green.

鈥淭here’s a lot of people I’ll see doing shorts, and first of all, I’m even wondering if they’re old enough to drink legally, and I’m wondering how much experience do they really have?鈥� he said. Wilson, who runs a website called 鈥淢y Ex Back Coach,鈥� studied English before earning a master’s in marriage and family therapy. He describes himself as 鈥渁 little bit of a veteran鈥� in the industry. 鈥淚 don’t want to come across as 鈥榳hat are all these young whippersnappers coming on YouTube doing?鈥欌�� he said. 鈥淏ut at the same time, I’ve seen people who took some really bad advice that caused them a lot of pain and difficulty.鈥� Of these younger influencers, Wilson mused, 鈥淚 wonder if they鈥檙e able to recognize when it鈥檚 over their head. That鈥檚 a concerning area, in my opinion.鈥�

I got the sense that Wilson had considered most of my questions before. He didn鈥檛 seem all that moved by my critical takes on his industry. Like most (but not all) the influencers I spoke to, he came off as more thoughtful and introspective in conversation than I鈥檇 expected from watching his clips online.

Nowhere was this more true than in my interview with , an ex-back coach, DJ, actress and fitness model, who goes by the name on TikTok. In many of Sugihara鈥檚 videos she appears in front of a mandala tapestry wearing a red lip filler filter, winged eyeliner, and shimmery gold eyeshadow. Sugihara claims she can help the heartbroken by tapping into archetypes like 鈥渄ark feminine,鈥� manifestation practices, and manipulating energetic frequencies.

鈥淓ven though I’m a coach, and it’s a business relationship, I literally feel like I fall into loving friendships whenever I work with another woman,鈥� Sugihara told me. 鈥淚鈥檓 not going to cry on my spray tan, but I really do care that they get better.鈥�

At that moment, I felt a kind of private, repugnant eagerness. I was immediately excited to use that quote in my article for a snarky riff on the artifice of influencer culture. When our conversation ended, my glee gave way to shame. I was uncomfortable to realize that I鈥檇 wanted Sugihara to be vapid or ridiculous when, in reality, I鈥檇 found her earnest and thoughtful. She told me that her mother had worked as a journalist, and she took the process of being interviewed seriously. At many points, she was moved to near tears talking about her professional connections with women.

Perhaps the strength of my reaction to Sugihara鈥檚 content was that I secretly found parts of it aspirational. I wanted to be an elegant mystical priestess constantly in touch with my own hotness and power. If breakups make us feel unattractive and enfeebled, maybe tapping into feeling isn鈥檛 such a bad thing, no matter how, to borrow Suhihara鈥檚 term, 鈥渨oo woo鈥� it seems?

Every breakup I鈥檝e had has been painful. Still, I鈥檝e learned something from trudging through the amorphous mess of humiliation and suffering each time. The process offered by ex-back influencers short circuits that healing by superimposing an abstract plan devised by somebody else onto a profoundly specific life experience. Ex-back influencers promise empowerment, and I believe many of them genuinely mean to be empowering. But their work exists on social platforms that make us . Both content creators and users are stuck in the same toxic relationship with the algorithm. With all our energies spent on willing and wishing for lost loves to return, these platforms know that, unlike our exes, we鈥檙e the ones always coming back.

As my conversation with Wilson wound down, I joked that it was always good to talk to a fellow English major. He lit up, like it was the first interesting thing I鈥檇 said all day. “I always wish I could have written novels,鈥� he said. 鈥淢aybe one day I’ll come back to it. Maybe. One day, fingers crossed.鈥� Perhaps our exes are best thought of the way Lee thinks about writing. Maybe one day we鈥檒l come back to them. But maybe not. In the meantime, we must close the book.