You know how sometimes you think if you met a celeb you would become automatic BFFs with them? That you would be so laid back and chill about the fact that their name has been splashed across every form of media, social network, etc.? You would be all, hey whoa! but then hold a normal conversation?
Turns out, I’m not that person.
Like at all.
There was that time Bestie and I got to go backstage at the Fray concert in Spokane. We ate Doritos on their tour bus. (#hungry) And had drinks with their family. Then, at 21, I was a more level headed celeb-greater than the mature 29-year old I am today.
Last weekend at Bestie’s bachelorette, a weekend full of sunning, vodka and dancing, we left the club and haphazardly ended up walking next to one of the loudest mouths to come out of Seattle ever. I favorited him right after the “you mad, bro?” picture and instantly became amazed by his skill on the field and accomplishments as a person.
Between the time he told a room of high schoolers the average NFL career is 3 and a half years then “pinched his fingers together, emphasizing the short period. He then lifted his arms out wide to spread his full, 78-inch wingspan” and said, “‘This is the rest of your life. Be prepared.'”(Read the full article from the Daily News here.)
…how can you not just love the guy?! I have dreamt of meeting him (literally meeting him has been in my dreams.) And there he was!
My cohort starting yelling, “SEA-HAWKS!” While trying to run after him. I was still in shock, stunned and trailing after her. Naturally I was wearing my favorite [pink] wedge platforms and several vodka grapefruits so I was moving somewhat slower than my runnin’ pace.
We were told, “no photos!” several times. Me being me in my starstruck state said what any fan would say when faced with a no picture dilemma: I don’t want a photo, just a hug!
And you guys, he hugged me.
“Richard Sherman fucking hugged me.” That is the exact text message I sent Boyfriend at 3am when I could not stop obsessing over it.
And because I’m not the calm and low key person I once thought I was, and I don’t think Richard found immediate friendship in my loud, giggly, near tears persona, I naturally tried to log in to my Twitter to tweet about it.
But of course, at 3am trying to download a Twitter app, remember your handle, then your password is virtually impossible for a flaky tweeter like myself.
And of course when you’re a flaky tweeter, you don’t realize that the only time you tweet is when the Hawks are playing and 50% of the time it’s about #25. (PICK SIX! PICK SIX!)
So you definitely probably shouldn’t tweet at him about that hug he gave you that one time in Scottsdale…because he’ll probably think you’re a jersey chaser.
But I did all of that, because even though we didn’t share an immediate and inseparable friendship – you guys – RICHARD SHERMAN FUCKING HUGGED ME.