My heart could use some glasses.

Paul Westerberg once sweat on me.

It was funny. I was at the Georgia Theatre in college with my girlfriend, who was this huge fan of his, at one of his concerts, and she wanted to get close to the stage.

So I stayed back toward the doors, listening to the music, and she made her way through the mosh pit.

And Paul Westerberg reached the end of a song, and I think he might've been pissed off or something because he just stormed off the stage, then walked through the crowd, which parted for him and then followed him as he walked past them.

I was in a daze. I didn't notice he was even off the stage before he was right in front of me.

And he walked right up to me, wiped sweat off his brow on to me, then walked out the doors.

His tour bus was parked outside.

Everyone, following Paul Westerberg, just ended up on the sidewalk.

Somewhere, standing near me with his entourage, was Michael Stipe. I said hello to him, since we'd met, and he said hello back.

And that was that.