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 I’m driving up the freeway singing along with a song I don’t particularly like just because it’s there. Traffic into Los Angeles on a Thursday evening isn’t as bad as the escape from L.A., but it is slow enough for me to compulsively check the clock and worry about being late. I really can’t be late because there isn’t a set time that I have to be at the restaurant. I don’t have to be at the restaurant at all, technically. I can turn this car around and be home just in time for Friends; like a  normal person.

Normal people don’t go well out of their way to hang out with the virtual friends they make on the Internet. I know, I know. “Normal is subjective, average is a statistical accident and common is just that.” Violet always knows the right thing to say. I know her as well, if not better, than I know anyone else. The only reason we haven’t hung out before is the three hours between our towns. Finally after four months of gabbing daily we’ll meet half way in the city of Angels. We’ll sit in the diner for hours over conversations just as fascinating as our chats and silly as our emails. Then at midnight my car may turn into a pumpkin but I won’t care! At midnight Violet and I will see the man who brought us together in the first place. Finally meeting Violet is the secondary event tonight, and she’d say the same. At midnight we’re going to be first in line to see Eddie Izzard’s new movie!

I am not a loser just because I’m going to have a club sandwich with a girl I met in an Eddie Izzard chat room. She’s a really cool girl and we have a lot in common other than our favorite comedian. I have plenty of friends that I’ve met in real locations but none of them adore Eddie as much as Violet and I do. He makes us laugh until our jaws ache from unbridled laughter. He entertains above and beyond the call of duty by making us ponder his material long after it’s been delivered. I think he’s pretty dreamy as well but Violet disagrees and quickly shushes me when I start to “objectify” him. “He’s not a piece of meat! Okay. A ham perhaps, but that’s neither here not there!”

Violet’s apparent lack of attraction to Eddie may be the only thing we don’t have in common. As far as I’m concerned a crush is just a fun bonus to being a fan of someone as smart and talented as Eddie. It’s like being a regular fan but with a perk. He makes my sides sore from giggling and he makes my nipples hard all during the same anecdote. Violet doesn’t get it but I forgive her.

We only talk about Eddie like a tenth of the time these days. It was more so in the beginning when we’d over analyze his routines, iterviews and movies because they are too good to just watch and be done with. Eddie gets better the more you think about him which is what led me to the Eddie sites on the Internet in the first place. Violet is the same way and in one chance moment we just clicked and found out all the other stuff we have in common.

We both go to school and work jobs we dislike. We’re both the same age. We both don’t like to think or talk about our ex’s but always end up doing it anyway. We both complain about our current steadies though we love them so. We both like our ice cream without nuts. We both have immediate family members that are emotionally distant. We both have things in the refrigerator that we can no longer identify but refuse to throw away. We both turn the ringer off of the phone so we can sleep in. We both worry about things beyond our control too much. We both thought midgets were cool before they became trendy. We both need to lose ten pounds but would like to lose fifteen for good measure. Neither of us will. We both have brown hair and blue eyes. We both miss the good old days. We both spend a little too much time on the Internet reading about Eddie.  We’re both driving an hour and a half to the only movie theater in this hemisphere playing the new movie at midnight instead of waiting for the afternoon showing tomorrow. We’re both wearing purple to identify each other and alienate the

unenlightened.

It was my idea to find the first showing of the movie and go together. Violet thought we’d better get a bite to eat first. It will certainly

kill time. The diner qualifies as a well lit public space so I’m not breaking any of the Internet’s standard first meeting rules. It’s also within view of this Sunset Blvd. off ramp and the movie theater. I’m buying my ticket three hours early for the first public West Coast showing of a movie that’s not Star Wars and the cashier doesn’t bat an eye. Welcome to Hollywood.

I haven’t been to this diner in a while but it’s familiar as can be. It’s a twenty four hour joint where you can dependably get a burger and

milkshake even after the clubs close at two in the morning. No sign of Violet yet so I’m just ordering coffee for now. I should have brought a book, but people are easy to read when you know how. After half an hour of inventing character developments for all the other patrons I go ahead and order food. So Violet’s not early, it doesn’t mean she’ll be late. It doesn’t mean she chickened out or was scared to meet little old me. My meal is a perfect distraction.

Half past ten and not another purple clad girl in sight. I’m not upset that I may well be stood up tonight. There are worse things than having to see an Eddie movie alone. He doesn’t have top billing or anything but I gather his role is an important supporting one. He always steals his scenes so his characters end up seeming like the movie is all about them. If Violet does show up I’d convince her to applaud his every entrance with me. Not a good idea if I’m alone. But that’s okay. Bitch. It’s eleven, my desert is gone and Violet is nowhere to be seen. I guess I’ll drink coffee until just before the movie starts, leave a big tip and be on my merry way. I’ve still got a little hope though and am keeping the door in my sights.

I am much more upset than I had realized, that is the only explanation for this. I am hallucinating. I am hallucinating very well. Eddie did not just walk into this restaurant while I’m waiting for a small meeting of the unofficial fan club. He lives in London, rationally I know that isn’t him being seated at the table across from mine. I refuse to look directly at this guy that I’m perceiving as Eddie lest he notice my stare and get the wrong idea. From his black jeans to his leather jacket he’s working a monochromatic look that is very Eddie but that doesn’t mean it’s really him because it can’t be. I refuse to let my heart beat any faster, I command my sweat glands to cease and desist. If I inhale deeply and take a single good look at this guy I’ll see that it’s not Him and be able to calmly live the rest of my life. Of course it’s not Eddie! Eddie’s hair is different and this jerk is wearing sunglasses at night. I’m laughing at myself internally for my foolish first impression. The only people that wear sunglasses at

night are assholes, junkies or celebrities. Or celebrities. I’ve been looking at this guy for four seconds, now five. Celebrities. Oh my God.

I have to look away but can’t. I think he notices I’m gawking. Oh shit. He takes off his glasses and smiles his perfect genuine Eddie fucking

Izzard smile right at me. I can look away now. I’m frozen and flustered and don’t know which way is up. I can’t believe Violet is missing this.

She asked me what I’d say if I met him and I said I’d be cool and witty. I worked it all out for her, I wasn’t going to be star struck at all and I’d talk to him like he’s regular guy. I’m petrified to look directly at Him again. I can hear his voice and any residual doubt of his true identity is abolished. “Just a quick coffee please.” This is far too real and whatever my options are I’m running out of time.  If I talk to Him it’s not like I’m disturbing his meal because he’s only having coffee. I have to talk to him but I don’t have a clue what to say. In fifteen words or less how do you convey the depth of your hero’s significance without coming on too strong? You can’t and I won’t try. I’ll write an old fashioned fan letter when I get home, on the good stationary, and send it off to him to tell him all he’s meant to me. It will be well thought out and organized. I will thank him for

the autograph. Yes! Plan struck.

Reaching into my purse for the ticket and a pen I see my own hand is trembling. A dozen deep breaths later I can grasp the autograph seekers

paraphernalia without visibly quivering and in an instant I approach Eddie’s table before I can lose my nerve. I don’t want to draw attention to him so I ask for his autograph quietly as I hold out my soon to be memento. He must really not want to draw attention to himself because before he starts to write his name he asks me to sit down.

I’m grinning to a molar exposing degree and have only managed to speak the words. “Mr. Izzard, may I please have your autograph.” and after

sitting down “thank you.” We just kind of look at each other for a bit before I start to giggle and look from his pretty face to the ticket and pen he now holds. He blushes (!) as he seems to remember what this strange girl is doing at his table and writes his name on the ticket. I’m flooded with relief that this is almost over and I have managed not to embarrass myself too badly. Cocking his head and warmly smiling he slides my precious autograph across the table under his right hand. I’m about to grab it, thank him again and run away when he foils my plan. Before I could retrieve my ticket, his hand grabbed mine and he’s shaking it.

“Hello, my name is Eddie.” So polite, (so English) introducing himself to a silly fan. I’m caught completely off guard by this.

So off guard that I hear myself say, out loud, to HIM, “Duh.” Kill me, kill me, and kill me. I am abhorrent. I couldn’t have just said “duh” to Eddie! But there he is smirking as one only does when witness to someone embarrassing themselves. “I’m sorry, oh god. I mean, of course you are...I know who you are. I’m your biggest fan. Well I don’t know, that’s sort of arrogant. You may well have a bigger fan someplace like Iceland or Cleveland or some other far off land. I don’t know how you’d really gauge such things. You could have a competition and I’m sure I’d do well, I’d certainly metal, but it remains to be seen if I’m really your number one fan, but I’m sure I’d qualify up there with the best of them.” Now he’s sort of giggling as I catch my breath before being consumed with self hatred for babbling at poor Eddie. “What are you doing in L.A.?” I keep saying things I don’t mean to. I want to leave him alone in peace, really. But he doesn’t seem to mind.

He leans back comfortably “I’m working here for a couple of weeks. Might squeeze in a couple of chat shows while I’m in town.” The waitress brings his coffee and he asks her to bring one for the lady. I shift uncomfortably realizing he’s referring to me. He keeps talking and I’m exponentially relieved. There is a lot of interesting stuff going on with the movie he’s making now and he seems pleased to talk about it. I’m used to hearing his voice so this is very soothing and relaxing. I’m not so nervous anymore as I listen intently and have an excuse to really look at him.

As he stirs his coffee I notice his nicely manicured nails painted dark blue with light blue tips. The French tips of his nails match his sparkling eyes that are a billion times more luminous in person than in pictures. His hair is dyed a rich but natural looking auburn color, for the role he tells me. He doesn’t have a goatee but he’s not wearing any make up either, clean clean. He’s not completely in black after all, close up under the low hanging light fixture I can see that his T-shirt is an almost-but-not-quite-black deep plum. I think he’s waiting for me to say something.

“Thank you for being so kind to me Eddie. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.” I squeak out as I frantically search my purse for one more autographable piece of paper.

“Think nothing of it Taryn. I’ve enjoyed meeting you too.” he says looking down.

“Would you mind signing another one? It’s not for me. My friend Violet adores you too and she was supposed to be here but isn’t. I’m just so

sorry she missed you.” Eddie’s eyebrows are up and he looks a little confused, put out maybe. I shouldn’t have pressed my luck after he was so hospitable. He even said my name. He said my name? That’s right, he wouldn’t let me just take his autograph and scurry away. There was that whole formal introduction incident with the hand shake and the ‘my name’s Eddie’ thing. Duh. I didn’t say my name, I said Duh and will be scarred for life. I didn’t say my name so he mustn’t have said my name.

Like a man who hates to say no he pensively says, one word at a time, “I’m sorry Taryn.”

“That’s okay, I really have taken up too much of your time. Thank you, I’ll go now.” My legs are not carrying me away from poor Eddie though I try to make them work. He said it again, I’m sure of it. He said my name and it never sounded so sweet. But how? Part of me knows something that I’m just not ready to be cognizant of. Something is slowly dawning on me like it’s on the tip of my subconscious tongue.

“No, it’s not that. I’m really sorry. Actors are professional liars you know, but that’s no excuse. For what it’s worth in some ways I was more

honest and true with you than I could have been in real life.” Eddie is pleading, he’s genuinely upset about something and assuming that I’m

mad at him. “I’m sorry. I’m Violet.”

“You’re fucked. That can’t be true.” In shock I reflexively blurt out before I can censor my own potty mouth. I don’t want to believe him but I do. Slack jawed I rethink all of my contact with Violet as I stare her in the face. All the silly and embarrassing girlie things I shared with her. All the things I thought I was saying in confidence about Eddie that I was actually saying to Eddie. “It is true? Oh my God.”

Eddie explains “I didn’t mean to take it so far. I’m sorry. I initially just wanted to see what the Internet fans thought of that one interview I did and what you said about it was really insightful. So I wanted to pick your brain and find out your opinions on some of the other stuff I do. Then...”

I interrupt “Then you started to get off on hearing someone tell you how great you are without having to scrounge up a sycophant? I can’t

believe this.”

“No; well maybe a little. Of course it felt good when you said nice things about me. But I always stopped you from discussing topics that might have embarrassed you when you knew I was me.” He looked into his coffee when he said the last part but I’m turning scarlet over a particular email I sent Violet telling her why she was wrong and listing all the things that make Eddie sexy. He quickly moves on “But your criticism is what I was really after. You’re right. I do avoid direct eye contact with my audience. I do know American pop culture disproportionately better than I relate to Americans. It is annoying the way I always stick my finger in my ear. Because of your criticisms I can work on this stuff.”

“Oh Eddie, I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry. That stuff doesn’t matter or take away from your talent. I wouldn’t have said that stuff to you, I’d

never want to hurt your feelings.” I’m beginning to make a point for him.

“I’m glad you said everything you did. Honestly that part of our correspondence was the most beneficial insight I’ve had from a third

party in a while. I’m not really sorry for that. I just didn’t count on becoming friends. Everything else we talked about was true; my life, my friends, my love life, my hopes and everything else is true. As true as it can be considering I’m not really a twenty three year old girl from

California. I’m sorry I mislead you.”

“I don’t know what to say.”
 

“Say you forgive me.”

“You don’t even want forgiveness for the thing that really upsets me. I understand that you’d keep an eye on what people say about you on the

Internet. I can understand changing names and identifying information when talking about personal stuff. If I’d known it was you I never would have objectified you like some groupie. I’m less upset about you lying than I am about the things you let me say to you.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed of. I’m glad to have read everything you said. I hope we can still write to each other.”

“Having a pen pall is kind of retro chic. But, why would you want to hear what I have to say now that I know you’re you?”

“Because now that you know I’m me I can be myself.” He checks his watch. “We have a movie to go to Taryn. We shouldn’t be late, my favorite scene is near the start.”

“You still want to go to the movie with me, really?”
 

“Of course, otherwise you came all this way for nothing.”

“Eddie, that is the understatement of the year.”