On “Meeting” Andy Cohen and Fear of Missing Documentation (FOMD)

I just had an AHA! moment (thus the insane picture of my clique and I above, obviously) and it goes a little something like this… Last night, I went to my imaginary BFF Andy Cohen’s second book launch. To get you all up to speed with my infatuation with him, well, let’s just say that if given the chance to hide him in my basement for keeps, I’d do it — which is completely creepy and nightmarish but I’m all about real talk here. So as you can very well imagine, the entire day leading up to our first EPIC encounter was spent obsessing over what I’d say to him, how I’d 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 burning questions and sordid confessions — such as my sick fascination with Ladies of London, how Teresa Giudice (and her lack of proper grammar) makes me MENTAL, how when I grow up I want to be Lisa Vanderpump (Giggy and her British accent are everything), 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 WHACK AND FUCKED.

Fast forward to right now (a day later) and I realize this whole FOMD situation is getting 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 a solid 9 on a scale from 1 to Amanda Bynes.

So thank you, Universe, for blockading me from meeting Andy last night. It was your infinitely cool way of saying, “Enjoy the moment, Maria. And put down your iPhone, for chrissakes. That’s Andy Cohen — in the living flesh! — 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.