She looked at herself one last time in the mirror. Satisfied with her overall look, she quickly threw her lipstick, eyeliner and compact into her clutch bag. “Not too bad” she said to her reflection in the mirror although she wasn’t sure she could say the same about her decision to go for this ‘meet-up’. Yes it had been weeks (probably months) since she’d met up a random stranger much less a whole hoard of random strangers but she figured it was still a better option than spending another Friday night with her head buried in work. In the worst case she’d hate it and excuse herself after downing a couple drinks, in the best… well who knows?!
She’d spent the better half of the evening trying to pick out a suitable outfit and had finally settled on blue jeans, a white tank top and her favorite purple corduroy jacket with a purple and turquoise scarf thrown in for good measure. Teamed up with her new white platform heels, the outfit looked nice but maybe a tad too casual. She quickly dismissed the thought though. Wasn’t the whole idea to ensure no one guessed her actual identity? And speaking of identity, she hadn’t even given a passing thought to how she’d introduce herself. Was there a set of rules for such ‘meet-ups’? Did people use fake names or introduce themselves as who they actually are, like in their real lives?
Anonymous Bloggers Convention – ABC! Just saying it out loud sent shivers up her spine. What kind of people blog anonymously she asked herself. Axe-murders, swingers, people with double lives and spies? Surely she was the exception and the rule was that most anonymous bloggers were pedophiles, convicts or under a witness protection program. Popping an Altoid in her mouth, she grabbed her keys off the microwave and headed out the door trying hard to think of a few reasons to justify this impulsive act of signing up for the ABC last week.
Yes she’d been mildly buzzed and extremely bored but it was more than just that she figured as she got out of her apartment and walked towards Bryant Park. And while it was easy to place the blame squarely on Mark’s slight shoulders, she was sure it was more than just the talking down she’d received from her gay flat mate for living like such a hermit recently that’d made her sign-up. As she walked towards the subway and boarded the F train to get to Delancey St. she thought about her own ‘anonymous blog’ and suddenly she knew why she was doing this. Her blog, albeit anonymous, was probably the most real part of her. She’d shared so much with it over the past year and a half, probably more than she’d shared with any friend in her entire lifetime. She owed it to her blog and somehow she was sure being part of this Anonymous Bloggers Convention would validate her blog and make it feel like a part of her real life.
Settling down into an empty seat, she put on her headphones and hit play on her iPod. As Lenka started crooning in her ears she bobbed her head and sent out a silent prayer. Yes indeed, she would “just enjoy the show” tonight.
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