This project already failed and succeeded
I’m as surprised as anyone reading this post. I thought I’d be doing this project for a year, then maybe putting it in my portfolio. Deep inside, I figured I’d probably chat with a dozen or so people on Cameo, and that maybe (if I was lucky) I would actually make a distant casual friend. Someone that if I went to their comedy show/bumped into them at a restaurant or bar, we could chat for a bit in a pleasant but sincere manner. The way you talk to a coworker you liked at your job five years ago. It felt modest in it’s ambition and easy to pursue.
At first I wrote to Dave Holmes, thinking there was plenty I could ask him about, and that he felt approachable enough. But he didn’t reply, so I wrote the pre-planned “break-glass-in-case-of-failure” essay about how he really missed out on an awesome friend, but that the offer was a standing one. It still is, Dave.
Then I chatted with comedian Rhea Butcher a few times. They were very down to chat, but I understood how limiting the one-way communication on Cameo is. They weren’t really getting the benefit of seeing my genuinely friendly intent, just reading 250 characters of “request.” Once I started to sense that Rhea was maintaining a level of skepticism, it made me feel...weird? Like I was not adding any value to their life beyond the $35. And I wasn’t! But maybe I was unwilling to admit that at the time. So I just wrote the “it’s not you, Rhea, it’s me” essay and moved on to the next person of interest.
Then I started chatting with Chris Gethard. Chris was someone who I had long admired for his depth and sensitivity on his tremendously thoughtful podcast Beautiful/Anonymous. In our initial exchange I learned that he grew up 15 minutes away in from my own NJ hometown. On further exchanges, I learned more and more about Chris. That he was leaving comedy in a few months. That he had a son. That he had had bad experiences with people who went to my high school.
Finally, Chris was kind enough to let me contact him personally through a secure channel. I told him about this project, expecting that he would be supportive (as the intent is definitely inspired by his podcast Beautiful/Anon). But he was bummed out, like we had actually begun to form a loose and distant but very real friendship under false pretenses.
This is why I succeeded. I made some kind of emotional connection over Cameo, a platform centered around one-way-communication against all odds.
This is why I failed. I have already ruined that connection.
So with a heavy heart, I’m already going to stop this project. I do not regret trying, but I do regret the collateral damage caused by trying.
Maybe this is a larger lesson. I’m never going to stop making mistakes. I’m never going to stop causing pain in other people, as much as it is my intention to stop and never let it happen ever again. My curiosity is not as gentle as the other parts of my personality. I am often at odds with myself.
The positive I am choosing to take away from this is that there are definitely people I already know who are friends of mine. They’re not famous comedians, or TV personalities. But they are talented. Loving. Patient. Forgiving. Supportive. They deserve my full attention and focus.
Amy. Stevie. David.
Julia (all the Julias, actually).
Nathan. Meredith.
Mindy. Tim.
Jeff.
My really wonderful coworkers, who are more friends than coworker at this point.
My sisters.
My parents.
And many more names than I can fit in this essay without making it unreadable.
Thank you for reading, and in the words of Andrew Gold, “Thank you for being a friend.”