When I envisioned meeting Mac DeMarco for the first time, I liked to think that it would be at some cool bar after one of his shows. I’d be all nonchalant and put something on the jukebox and he’d come over and commend me on it and we’d fall in love. However, in reality I’m a neurotic nightmare with an anxiety disorder, I wasn’t going to be able to pull off cool, I’d probably be completely unable to even speak due to my starstruck tendencies. Having not been in the company of famous people many times in my life, bar my meet and great with Cliff Richard (age 8) and my awkward art chat with Noel Fielding (age 17), I am completely unequipped for handling situations with anyone even remotely cool. Let alone someone I admire, love, and worship (a bit much). I spent the whole of the gig on Wednesday experiencing a roller coaster of emotions, from anxiety to euphoria. When he staged dived in the crowd and I touched his hand I thought I was going to pass out, and thus figured that would be the extent of our interactions from here until eternity. What actually happened was strange and led to the best night of my life, and I’m not sure quite how it happened.
Maybe it’s because Mac has got me through two breakups and a degree, or maybe it’s because I’ve followed his movements pretty closely ever since I was blessed with his ear candy, but I felt a weird state of calm when I snuck into the Ritz foyer and gave him a hug in which I held on too tightly. We went for a cigarette and he held me in his arms and sang a lullaby to me, and for some reason this seemed totally normal. I felt like I’d known him forever and I was probably almost certainly being a massive creeper, but he invited us to go do some karaoke in China Town with him and that is exactly what happened.
By the time he arrived I was signing a pretty solid rendition of my go to karaoke track Sexual Healing. Suddenly I was very aware that I was staring at Mac DeMarco, singing Marvin Gaye, like it was just any other day. The following choice of Tiny Dancer went down so well with Mac he got up and joined in. Again, I felt this was completely normal, and even played the whole nonchalant at the bar and not speaking to him move. This move was counteracted when he bought me a drink at that bar, and I think from then on I felt switching it up a notch from creepy fan to full blown at-your-side-like-your-my-best-mate-fan-girl. We danced, we sang, we chatted, throwing arms around each other like old friends. Why I had NOT had a mental breakdown and started crying yet was beyond me. I have literally not stopped talking about him to anyone who will listen for months and months, always making up scenarios in which we’d hang out and laughing them off manically. But Mac was so sweet, so normal and so friendly that everyone in that karaoke bar could’ve been his oldest friend, and it was so strange having a built up idea of someone and them achieving it.
When we got dragged kicking and screaming out of the karaoke bar at 3 a.m. I felt like my luck was ending and the night was over, but when we were in search of a bar and we found Cruz 101, a gay bar open til 6am, the night took a turn for the better. Despite the fact we were all so drunk by this point we could barely talk, we danced to eurotrash and took shots and threw up (okay, that was just me). Everyone took their tops off and started spinning them around and getting on each other, the air was palpable with love, affection and beer. Eventually the tiredness got the better of us, and all though the temptation to go back to the bands hotel room with them was unreal, they’re 9.30 a.m. set off to London some how managed to convince my frazzled brain that it wasn’t the best idea. It was 5.30 a.m. and then sun was shining, we smoked one last cigarette before he embraced me, kissed me on the cheek and told me it was really lovely to meet me. I think it was around then that melt down kicked in. I’ve never been happier to see someone leave a bar before so I could go absolutely mental. I had gone from not even considering saying hi to him to hugging him whilst singing “Set Me Free” by N:Trance. With that we stumbled into a taxi, my three friends and I, absolutely gushing. I’d been a groupie obsessive, we all had been, but it was worth it to be at a private 10 man after party with Mac De-fucking-Marco.
I woke up the next day thinking it had been a dream, I honestly did. It was in all fairness very similar to a lot of dreams I’ve had about him (and there has been a lot). When I realised it was real I screamed intermittently for around 3 hours. I cried (but I think I was still pissed and it was only one tear so it doesn’t count) and for the rest of the day could not think of anything but the night before. His angelic ways blew my mind, the megababe. If you ever get the chance to hang out with him, or any of your idols, just do it. Being starstruck is nothing compared to the feeling you will get when you’re kicking yourself for blowing an opportunity. Even if he thinks I’m a weird loser, it doesn’t matter because it was one night only and who knows when I’ll see him again (a depressing thought I’m experiencing a lot of recent). Also I kissed him on the mouth and that was pretty cool 10/10 recommend.
punching 