Matty and I MIRL'd, and All I Got Was This Stupid Post

There was an upset among the Interwebs tonight. Did you feel it?

Matty and I met in real life (MIRL)-- in person, for reals, no joking around. Okay, there was actually a lot of joking around. And an exorbitant amount of nervous laughter on my part, but all in all, I think it was a successful blogger meet 'n greet.

I arranged for us to meet at a bar that's across the street from both him and Megan Jane, 'cause they're neighbors yo, but it didn't open until an hour after we planned to meet.

I was kinda worried about my ineptitude in picking a bar that didn't serve day drinkers, but I lost all fear when Matty's response was, "That's fine. I'm totally hammered. Is that okay?"

Of course, kid. Of course. I told him I would expect nothing less. So, I plopped down and waited for him to meet me as the snow swirled about, and I immersed myself in Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio because I recently read that Anderson was a drunk, and that makes him infinitely more interesting to me now.

Matty shuffled up in his pea coat, and I knew that scruffly beard anywhere. I think I giggled and threw my arms around him. He swayed a bit and reiterated, "I am so hammered."

Good for you, Matty. Good. For. You. Sundays were made for drinking wine. I was totally proud of him for venturing out in the first place--it's weird and awkward and scary to meet new people. Especially people from the Internets.

So, we ambled off to an Irish bar that understood cocktail hour comes earlier for some folks, and would you believe the first topic we talked about was Mist1, who is supposed to come up our way this month. The thought makes me want to pee myself. In a good way, of course.

After that, we both just kept saying, "This is weird. How weird is this? This is very weird. This whole thing? It's weird. Weird, huh? I can't believe we're meeting. It's weird."

We chatted--mostly just re-checked facts we knew about each other from the archives. "So, you play guitar, right? I'm going to become a guitar hero," Matty said.

"Yeah. Your sister plays guitar, doesn't she? How old is she? 12? "

"She's 13. She plays piano and guitar," he said.

"Cool," I offered. "That's very cool."

We were both just sort of floating through the weirdness, feeling each other out, when Megan Jane arrived, thankfully. Megan Jane and I operate very well as a pair, so poor Matty had to endure our explanation of the Hellen Keller, talk of poontangs, more mentions of the word "cock" than are probably legal and some chatter about bubble baths.

My whole pitch with Matty has been, "Come out and play with my friends and me. I'm awesome! They're awesome! Come be awesome with us!" so I'm just so psyched he did, and I know this is the start of a beautiful friendship, my pretties. Something inherent within me says that Matty is supposed to come into our fold.

I hope this sparks a whole movement of people meeting up in real life. I know there are several talented bloggers in our hood, not to mention the ones I already adore in real life, that I would love nothing more than to sit down and enjoy waffles and chit chat with.

I hope we don't settle for artificial intimacy across the Interweb, kids. On your death bed, I doubt you'll utter the phrase, "If only I'd left one more comment on Mist1's blog, I could have died happy." Isn't it better to tell Mist how awesome she (and her shoes) are to her face?

I challenge each of you to seek out a blogger in a 10-mile radius of you and get together for coffee or Jagermiester shots in the next month. I know it's scary, but it's also very rewarding, and even if you don't like the person, you'll get a caffeine buzz or even drunk! Wheeeee!