There isn’t really a good explanation for this. In high school, I drew a series of comics about a kid named Mike McGann. In each strip, Mike succumbs to some kind of grisly death. You might notice in each strip, a group of girls, crying out Mike’s name. These represented the “harem” of bobbysoxers that followed him around our high school. I had nothing against Mike, but it was fun to continuously depict his demise, while barely listening to lecture in accounting class.
I started taping them to the inside of my locker. Eventually I had dozens of them. I don’t think Mike ever knew.