Multi-part TikTok videos go viral after “Who the hell did I marry?”

Scrolling through TikTok, punctuated by cooking tutorials, outfit checks, and dance challenges, storytimes dominate the For You pages. They are videos of creators sharing vulnerable experiences, or “storytelling,” as they like to call it.

Since the beginning of 2022, the app has allowed videos up to 10 minutes long, but for some of the epic storytimes on the platform, 10 minutes just isn't enough. The second, third, and tenth parts of a video series are now crowding the app more frequently. Just like cliffhangers on TV, videos often end on a suspenseful note that builds anticipation for the next part.

Of course, there is no one path to virality. The app lends itself to short content. According to data-gathering platform Statista, the average video length for accounts with fewer than 50,000 followers is 35 seconds. More popular accounts tend to produce content with an average length of 55 seconds. But there's no doubt that long-form storytelling is on the rise.

In recent memory, no one has done it bigger and better than Tareasa Johnson. Johnson, known online as Reesa Teesa, began posting her series “Who TF Did I Marry?!?” on TikTok in February. The 52-part saga – which totaled over six hours – was released in three days and attracted more than 400 million views in its first three weeks.

“Nobody can plan when something will go viral,” Johnson said. “But I really didn't think this would go viral because it was so long. I thought, 'Nobody is really going to sit and watch all of this.'”

Yet day after day, people kept coming back, fascinated by Johnson's hour-long narrative of how she “met, dated, married and divorced” a man she described as a “pathological liar.”

“I've heard a lot of times, 'Hey girl, we're waiting for the next part. Do you really have to go to sleep? Don't sleep. Put the next part in. We want more. We want more,'” she said.

A TikTok report in March found that viewership of longer videos increased by 40% over the past six months, with users spending half of their time on the app watching longer videos rather than the short-form content the platform was originally designed for.

Johnson's detailed account of exposing her ex-husband's alleged lies made her an overnight internet celebrity. She referred to him by the pseudonym Legion and never revealed his real name.

Storytimes have captivated social media since their inception. In 2015, a 148-tweet thread by A'Ziah “Zola” King, recounting a dangerous trip to Tampa, Florida, that resulted in kidnapping and murder, captured the zeitgeist. The saga was adapted into a feature film by A24 in 2020.

“Who the Hell Did I Marry?!?” is not yet in theaters or on television, but Johnson is open to the idea.

The series' success “opened the door for some really, really life-changing things,” she said, keeping her upcoming projects under wraps. Johnson was attending meetings in New York on the day of her interview with The Times in mid-August.

Just weeks after the series' release, Johnson signed with CAA as a representative. In addition to television appearances on “Good Morning America” ​​and “Tamron Hall,” Johnson has delivered commencement speeches at the University at Buffalo and was the keynote speaker at the first Dear Future Husband gathering in Cancun, Mexico, recently hosted by the podcast of the same name.

Johnson's engaging storytelling drew audiences in, but she said it was her truthful and relatable portrayal of her surprising situation that kept viewers staying longer.

“At first I felt like I was the dumbest person on earth and I felt really alone. But I've read that a lot of people have experienced this, either themselves or they know someone, and when I say that, I'm talking about the lies and the betrayal. I think that's what resonated with people,” Johnson said. “I think the crux of the matter is that we all somehow know someone – either ourselves or a friend or family member – to whom something bad has happened.”

Brooke Schofield was inspired by Tareasa Johnson and created a multi-part TikTok series.

(Monica Schipper / FilmMagic via Getty Images)

Johnson's “Who TF Did I Marry?!?” inspired others to share their relationship nightmares in sequels. In June, influencer Brooke Schofield released a 27-part TikTok series about her ex-boyfriend Clinton Kane. Schofield didn't expect the strong reaction, especially since she had already spoken about the short-lived relationship with the singer on her podcast “Cancelled.”

“If I had known how big [the videos] I definitely might have thought about it again,” Schofield joked.

Her story went so viral that KamalaHQ – the official presidential campaign account of Vice President Kamala Harris – video on TikTok last month with audio of Schofield's comments from the series.

While Schofield shared her multi-part saga, influencer Madeline Argy posted five videos claiming her ex-boyfriend, rapper Central Cee, cheated on her. Argy received millions of views and support online.

“I feel like we're on FaceTime,” one user commented on Argy's video.

Johnson said the conversational and intimate nature of her videos — some were filmed while driving — contributed to their virality.

“To be honest, I just told the story in my most natural way. It's nothing special for me to pick up the phone, whether I'm talking to a friend or a family member on FaceTime, and just talk. … What you see in this 50-part series is who I am,” Johnson said.

June was the best time for storytelling on TikTok, with popular personalities like Chris Olsen, Haley Kalil (known online as Haleyy Baylee), and Heather Bowling following suit with multi-part series. Kalil eventually deleted the videos when users accused her of lying.

While Argy was likely inspired by Schofield's recent virality – as well as the release of the song “Did It First” by Central Cee, who is reportedly dating his girlfriend Ice Spice – Schofield's series was directly modeled after Johnson's; the influencer even dubbed it “Who the F*ck Did I Marry?”

Schofield's podcast co-host Tana Mongeau was the one who originally suggested she do a “Reesa Teesa series.”

Johnson says she has seen almost all of the WhoTF spin-offs from other creators.

“I think people think, 'She went viral and she went viral in this way. If I do this, I'm going to go viral, too,' because I think we live in a generation where people automatically want to go viral and feel like virality means money and fame,” Johnson said. “I love it when people share their story in a way that they're comfortable with, but I really want to encourage people to tell it in their own way and tell it in a way that feels authentic to them.”

Johnson told The Cut that she only earned $5,000 from the series because she applied too late for the TikTok Creator Fund, which is used to monetize content based on video views and engagement.

An October survey conducted by pollster Leger for The Times found that Americans ages 18 to 34 spend as much time on TikTok as they do watching scripted TV and movies combined. And 46% of 18- to 34-year-olds also said they watch more social media videos now than they did two years ago.

“People’s attention span is obviously more focused on short-form content today, as I’m sure [is],” Schofield said. “I would rather watch a movie in 200 parts than a movie on TV. It's easier for me. I think that might have contributed to my story gaining so much popularity now, because it probably felt easier to consume it in small parts than if I had made a huge, 40-minute YouTube video about it.”

In her series Who the Hell Did I Marry?, Schofield claims Kane fabricated the deaths of his mother and brother and lied about being Australian. She also says he cheated on her and isolated her from her friends.

Two and a half weeks later, Kane responded with his own 26-part saga called “Who Did I Date, Not Marry?” Although his videos weren't as well-received as Schofield's—back when TikTok users flocked to her—he still garnered at least 1.5 million views per video.

That same day, Schofield denied Kane's claim that she was exaggerating the story in another 12-part sequel series.

The two told conflicting stories. Although TikTok is a powerful tool for self-expression, users rarely have a way to verify the validity of the stories.

“Publicly rehashing these details is simply an attempt to draw attention to Brooke's podcast at the expense of disparaging another ex-boyfriend – a tactic she has become known for,” a spokesperson for Kane told People in June.

Johnson knew her story would be picked apart, so she tried to provide as many details as possible. But that didn't stop internet sleuths – and Legion himself, who has denied all allegations – from trying to discredit her.

“Sometimes you tell your story and you have to be willing to stand by your story, even if you're alone,” Johnson said. “I know that every single thing in that story happened.”

In a sharp turn of events, Schofield recently came under fire for racist tweets she made between 2012 and 2016 mocking minorities and defending George Zimmerman's killing of Trayvon Martin. After the tweets resurfaced, Schofield posted three apology videos on TikTok.

“In my opinion, an apology is not enough for the way I tweeted and said things online at the time. And I know there is no apology other than making amends that can heal this wound,” Schofield said in an Aug. 8 post. “I don't care if I was a teenager. I was old enough to know better.”

Schofield did not appear on the final episode of “Cancelled,” and it is unclear whether she will return as co-host. A spokesperson for the podcast did not respond to The Times’ request for comment.