On meeting a fellow fan, or: a penpal becomes a real person

I still struggle with the “how crazy am I really?” problem, perhaps more than is obvious given my apparent surrender to acute logorrhoea at this blog.

One boundary I set for myself that’s made this writing easier for me is the feeling that Servetus the writer isn’t entirely real. I overlap with her in significant ways, but we are not entirely contiguous. The daily household chores, my engagement with the pumpkins, the practical problems I’m called on to solve, the housekeeping, gritting my teeth: those things are real and justify this activity as unreal escapism — even as I put aside my increasing awareness that as trivial as it may seem, it’s specifically the desire to do this writing that keeps me animated and helps those words pour out. I may be troubled by Servetus but unleashing her is the thing that makes me happiest in the world at the moment. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep Servetus alive and functioning. So the apparent unreality of Servetus is frequently a helpful fiction: say what you think, be honest — but don’t let Servetus ever be fully real. That way she can’t be damaged in the way that you have been.

It’s been unclear to me where meeting a fellow fan falls in the spectrum from crazy to sane, but it’s definitely a step in the direction of making Servetus more real. If Servetus meets a fellow fan in her physical form, she has to cop to being a real person, to saying: I am responsible for all of this, whether good, bad, or mediocre. Meeting a fellow fan makes spheres in my life that I try to keep separate collide. All that on top of the anxieties that always accompany meeting someone whom one knows well in a limited setting and has never met. We all compensate for things in our writing, we all make up for holes we sense in ourselves by means of narrative techniques. Writing successfully makes me feel strong, but it doesn’t obscure my awareness of reality. First of all, the flawed nature of human communication means we can easily create false impressions. (One of my worries, for instance, is that my ongoing discussion of clothes here makes readers think I am a stylish fashion plate — nothing could be further from the truth!) Then, there’s my awareness of how I really am when I am not writing. I worry about not being pretty enough, about having disagreeable political opinions, or displaying some bothersome and unoverlookable tic. I see myself from the perspective of meeting one of the characters in Seinfeld, who find something objectionable in every person they meet, and worry that I am not lovable enough to spend even an afternoon with. And finally, there’s the problem of the expectations that are created by fixing a particular identity through interacting with another person. If I have a particularly thoughtful day when I meet someone, then I feel under obligation to continue being that person in situations where I know that person is reading or watching. Never meeting anyone I am in contact with through the blog means a more flexible identity, the preservation of a larger discursive sphere of freedom for myself. And then there’s the “what will we talk about for seven hours?” question.

So although it’s been suggested to me a handful of times that I meet a fellow fan, I’ve never agreed to do it — and excused myself with the explanation that I just wasn’t ready. I’ve gone to cities where I knew other fans live and never gotten in touch. Wasn’t ready to give up the freedom, but also: not ready to be weighed in the balance and found wanting, or — perhaps — not ready to let go of my fears?

Recently a series of improbable planets aligned — I still can’t fully explain it — and so I actually proposed to a fellow fan that we meet. I took the initiative. And she agreed! That’s how I spent most of Saturday, bracketed by drives to and fro that allowed me to think about it all.

Result: it was a day with everything! Good weather, culture, fresh air, nature, exercise, good food, and conversations about everything possible including, but not limited to, the really vital questions about Richard Armitage. (And it was neat to be with a real life person who I know wouldn’t mind if I wanted to talk about him, and the nature and politics of Armitageworld, a lot.) Beyond Armitage, we found we had a lot in common, including our senses of humor. We talked about the stuff we saw, dealing with parents, careers, karma, the world, travel, books, and even that touchy topic: U.S. politics. In real life, my fellow fan was just like she seems in other contexts: witty, understanding, intelligent, a great observer of the world around her, mature, together, kind. I left hoarse from hours of talk, feeling like a virtual friend had become a real friend. It was both what I would have expected if I hadn’t allowed my fears to control me — and simultaneously so, so much better than I expected. Like Anselm says, things that really exist are per definitionem greater than the ones that you can only imagine.

Said fellow fan pointed out to me toward the end of the day that meeting someone in real life is maybe the most “normal” aspect of participating in a fandom. I hadn’t thought about that, but it seemed true to me, and just as importantly, it would also have been true even if it hadn’t gone so well. Meeting a virtual friend is a way of normalizing a highly regulated relationship, of allowing both the friends to grow. It’s not a restriction of freedom, it’s a granting of freedom to another person to be herself. That has to be a positive thing.

I hope I’ll be braver the next time someone suggests a meeting. I learned Saturday that real life contact with fellow fans definitely falls on the sane side of the fan spectrum. And if things are better that exist in reality than only in the mind, maybe meeting other fans and letting them see me be real is a way to make the Servetus of the blog as real as I wish she could be, of making her discursive strength a strength that moves beyond words.

[ETA: Hazel Osmond, she of the wonderful “Love is a Wound” (at DF), posted on a similar topic a few days ago. I just saw it now. Worth reading. I especially liked this quote: “This is a fascinating process because it’s a direct reversal of what normally happens when friendships are formed: you meet someone, get to know them, decide if you want to be friends – in this instance, you’ve decided quite a way back down the line if you want to be friends by picking up on all those little signs that people give out that tell you you’re on the same wavelength”.]

[ETA: Judiang outs herself as the fellow fan in a revealing post.]

~ by Servetus on July 25, 2011.