No man I’ve loved has loved Mariah Carey as much as me. Even my best efforts to convert the most rigid nonbelievers — apparently, they exist — have proved futile.

Yet when I filled in the prompts on my Hinge profile last year, I still caught myself testing potential suitors to see if they were up for the challenge: “I’ll fall for you if … your favorite Mariah Carey song is a deep cut,” I had written, attempting to connect with other “lambs,” the nickname for those who are considered her biggest fans.

The subculture of intensely devoted fandom spans a range of interests and idols, from Potterheads (“Harry Potter” die-hards) to Swifties (Taylor Swift lovers) to Trekkies (“Star Trek” buffs). Sports fandom can be extreme too, which is about all I can say about that, because it’s definitely not my scene.

Since age 8, my favorite extreme sport has been observing the chart-topping highs and “Glitter” movie lows of my vocal M.V.P., rooting for vocal victory after vocal victory, watching her routinely prove people wrong. I keep score, too. Have since 1990. As of last year, she has landed in the No. 1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100 charts 19 times. How about those stats?