Normally I’m more of a concert or tattoo convention kinda person, but this year I decided
A quest for passion, which admittedly as of now seems like quite a big waste of time. I should have known this was going to go on. Doesn’t it always? Have I learned nothing from past escapades?
If that weekend was anything to go by I’m going to have to say not really. The only difference from this time is the I didn’t add the date of the convention to my tattoo collection, incasing yet another moment of regret and sorrow into my flesh.
Some people knew me from my books or from here which was nice. What I didn’t expect was a 13-year old girl to jump into my arms and scream, “IT’S YOU!!” I was startled and thought she’d mistaken me for someone else, like so many else did that day. Before I could ask her if she was sure of who I was, her mum came running up and told me that they loved to read my blog! They loved the Dan the Doodlebug parts and the Delectables with Dan recipes that I’d been doing. The little one clamoured that she wanted a photo with me and who was I to say no? Terrible she wanted such an ugly image though. I said yes, so I got down on my knees (I was wearing slight platforms) so that we could hug and her mum snapped the photo. While her daughter was looking at the photo and was I imaging tweeting it to her playmates at home, her mum leant over and said she enjoyed some of my rather saucier things and she likes to read them when her daughter’s in bed. Well, hot fuck. LEVEL UP!
I’m not going to talk about who I met because I don’t want any shit from jealous fan girls, but I will
say that the group was fucking insane. Literally. Clinically insane. It was mass hysteria at it’s finest and I was sat right in the fucking middle of it. They all were loud, chittering and some of them were like on the edge of weeing. I’ve never understood this. They’re just people. I was nervous that I’d make a fool of myself, not because I’m a “fan” per-se but because I like one of the people I was meeting. Like pretty much fucking love. I decided to meet him sober. No drugs, no alcohol, nothing. It was a challenge that I needed to overcome. There may be a time when I don’t want or am unable to have medications to help me manage my anxiety and this was an opportunity to learn to overcome it. And no, I don’t regret doing it sober.
Staff came in announced that the creators would be coming in and gave a spew of the rules. Most of them were just comment sense, but of course, some of the girls squaked over it. They failed to see there are safety issues that come with meet and greets and the rules are in place for that very reason. I centred myself. I had my presents for the lads ready to hand over to the woman who was handling them, my breathing was even and I wasn’t on the verge of fainting. I had it. Then I lost it. The doors opened and one of the boys jumped into the room with an outburst of energy and the girls went bonkers. Some were crying. Some were screaming. It felt like I was at a Backstreet Boys concert in the 90s; which I actually was. World Tour Baby. I had Pokemon trainers and had to be one of the youngest people in the venue. I was 8 years old-Shit, I’m getting off topic.
The way so many of them carried on was appalling. It was like some sort of side-show to be honest.
I felt bad for the boys having to handle that kind of thing. Things calmed down as the line moved thank fuck or I might have just choked one of these teenagers. I’d also like to point out that I was like the oldest at the meet and greet. I was at least 3 years older than most of the people there, which was both awkward and funny. The boys didn’t mind, they were brilliant we chatted, had a laugh or two I was able to give the one that I really fancy his present (the staff knew how much it would mean to him and how much effort I put into it when they asked me about it.) and snapped a few lovely photos. One of the photos is even framed and hung up in my house. Okay, I may have got a little excited. I got to hug both of them and almost melted. I’m not one who ever gets hugged but this shit was off the hook.
He was so amazed over his present that he struggled to get the words out. The amazement in his eyes told me what he physically could not. And that for me, is something that I’ve never experienced. I’m not sure if I ever will again. Both of them were so nice to me and even complimented me, which stunned the everliving fuck out of me, that when I left the area my hands were shaking. I’d done it.
I’d met someone who I really like, gave him a letter telling him of said love, got two hugs from him and didn’t vomit on him. All of that without meds, drugs or booze. I accomplished something in that room that day. Something I didn’t think I’d be able to do. I left that room a changed muffin.
I didn’t want to stay at the convention after that. I’d done what I wanted to do. Give him something special and share my feelings. The reality of what I did hit me and I really just wanted to get the fuck out of there in case he read the letter when he finished the meet ups & wanted to find me. I knew I couldn’t handle that. My nerves were shot. I headed to the Starbucks inside the hotel where I chatted with some girls in line. One of them kinda knew who I was so that was ace. They were all giggly at me, especially after the other one mentioned she knew who I was and my books. I got one of those Midnight Mint or Mint Midnight, whatever the fuck they call it coffees and headed out to get a taxi to the resort I was staying at. I left with an amazing high. I felt good about me, what I’d done and what I’d accomplished. Now, I kind of regret telling him how I feel cause I’ve not gotten a reply at all and I’m starting to lose hope. It kind of feels as if I set myself up for failure. Who knows. If something does happen, I’m not going to blog about it. I’d like to keep it private and only share it with my close mates. It’s not that I want to be dishonest or anything, I just feel that it wouldn’t be right for me to just spew everything across the internet without knowing if it’s something he’d prefer to keep to himself which he probably would.
See You Next Time…
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