I just had an AHA! moment and felt the need to let you cool kids in on it, too. You see, recently, I went to my media hero Andy Cohen's second book launch for The Andy Cohen Diaries. I'm a Bravo superfan of sorts and the husband says it's a "problem." So as you can very well imagine, the entire day leading up to our first epic encounter at Villa Azur on sultry South Beach was spent obsessing over what I'd say to him, how to style my hair (beach waves or pin straight?), how I was going to pitch him his next Bravo pilot (currently entitled "The Chic Greek" but I'm totally open to your suggestions) and how I would finally land a prize spot with the King of Reality TV on my Instagram feed. The latter being the most embarrassing admission ever in the history of the internet, clearly.
And as luck would have it, none of these things transpired at the actual event. The opportunity to walk right up to him armed with a barrage of questions and dishy confessions -- such as my sick infatuation with Ladies of London, how Teresa Giudice drives me to drink (and then some), how when I grow up, I want to be Lisa Vanderpump (it's the British accent that gets me every time), and whether or not Anderson Cooper is a good kisser -- never presented itself.
But what drove me to drink (three $19 cosmos precisely) was the superficial notion I was unable to photograph my encounter with Andy to share it with the rest of the world. The entire night, my FOMD (fear of missing documentation) soured the entire affair.
WHICH IS UNEQUIVOCALLY WRONG.
Fast forward to the present moment and I realize this whole FOMD situation is getting wildly out of hand for both myself and a myriad of those around me. It feels as though if we don't photograph and share our moments on Facebook or Instagram -- whether it be a chance encounter with Willie Nelson (#PassTheGrass) to one's buttery pasta dish at Olive Garden (#foodporn) to the perfect froth on the morning's cappuccino (#coffee) -- it's as though it never really happened. It's like the whole experience was a mirage. A farce. And that's just plain sad.
So thank you, Universe, for blockading me from meeting Andy. It was your infinitely cool way of saying, "Enjoy the moment, Maria. And put down your iPhone, for chrissakes. That's Andy Cohen standing in front of you right there. Enjoy this ephemeral evening."
The takeaway here other than being present and in the moment? A little social media mystery is a very good thing.