I didn’t used to have social anxiety or “phobia” back when I was drinking. Mingling came quite naturally during a good vodka buzz. But professional networking in a large room of strangers is very difficult to do stone sober. Even if the cocktail party is sponsored by GM with trays of stuffed mushrooms, bacon rolls, and salmon appetizers circling you every five seconds, insuring you break the diet you just started.
So at BlogHer, I walked into the Grand Ballroom of Navy Pier’s convention setup and saw approximately 750 fellow female bloggers (actually, there were about 50 men there also who say they were there to do business). Approximately eight people sat at a table, so that was 93.75 round tables. That’s a lot of people.
I could feel my breath getting shallow as I approached the buffet, so I clutched my St. Therese medal and begin the cognitive pep talk: “You felt this way at Girl Scout Camp too, remember? And you made friends there. You’ll be fine.”
It’s funny how a business setting can automatically bring you back to the acne-ridden insecure years of junior high. In my case, when boys used me to get to my popular twin sister.

I’ve attended countless conventions. I admit to even liking them, because the sense of community in the religious publishing world (where I come from) is very nurturing. Mind you, I’m used to plopping down my plate next to a nun, with whom I would pray over our meal. So I was a bit taken back by this crowd: a cross-section of all kinds of subcultures–from the lesbians to the techno-geeks to the alternative folks with piercings on every body part.
I knew that I was not at the Religious Booksellers Trade Exhibit when a woman stood up from her table, took the mic, and explained that she wrote a blog because “my other friends just don’t understand when I tell them that I orgasm on the treadmill” (she’s obviously not on Zoloft).
When the woman in front of me went to hug the woman in back of me, yelling “You’re here!!!” I turned to the woman who was in front of her and said, “I don’t like these situations.”
“Either do I!” she said. “What do you blog about?”
“These kinds of situations and why I hate them.”
“Really?”
“Actually, it’s more of a spiritual mental health blog because, how do I put it, … I’m a holy whackjob.”
My confession won me a seat at Blondie’s table (she goes by that … check out her great blog, “Tales From Clark Street“), where her sister, Rita (check out her amazing blog as well at www.surrenderdorothyblog.com). I was sure they were the popular girls. I could hardly believe that I had landed a place at the cool table after all the grief I suffered in my youth.
In junior high, I needed Acutane to win friends. But at BlogHer, all I had to do was talk about my mental breakdown. These are my kind of people.