My fannish obsession with the comedic jpeg stylings of Mike Krahulik and Jerry Holkins has been a defining factor of my life, from adolescence through adulthood. I have read Penny Arcade almost every week for the last thirteen years of my life–one of the only weeks I missed was the week in 2012 when I was in the hospital, recovering from having the lowest part of my small intestine cut out and the remaining end of my small intestine stapled back onto my colon–and more often than not, upon reading them, I have LOLed.
I have LOLed mightily.
I have never met Mike. I have never met Jerry. But I have been listening to their podcasts and watching their shows so long I feel like I know them. I have been listening to them joke and bullshit about games for so long that I almost have the illusory feeling that they’re old friends.
So why do I feel a mortal terror that spending this GenCon literally across the aisle from Gabe at the Lone Shark Games booth means that I will manage to either faint dead away, vomit on him, accidentally give great offense, or somehow pull off all three at one time?
I live in almost mortal terror of encountering people whose work I love, cherish, and respect because I am overwhelmingly convinced they will immediately think I am an asshole, before or after I literally or figuratively shit my pants. My anti-anxiety meds aren’t cutting it. Why should anyone be afraid of meeting people they like who make stuff that they LOVE? Is there are a name for this?