roz

We all knew Matt Trout differently.

To some, he was tough. Uncompromising. Intimidating, even. He was half-man, half-thermite, a brilliant intellect with a particular way of loving something so fiercely that if you didn’t match that intensity, he might burn straight through, leaving you feeling crispy at the edges. Others have spoken about his “Get good or get out” attitude and I think it’s important to acknowledge that whilst he forged a lot of people into better programmers, it also drove others away.

But my version of Matt was the best mentor I’ve ever had. He was never condescending, in fact he seemed to have an infinite amount of belief in me and patience with me that I’m not sure what I did to deserve. When I was drowning, he’d pull me out of the water at the last minute, give me a hint, and throw me back into the deep end. I learned to swim because he never doubted that I could.

I’m someone who tends to live in her head a lot, who wonders aloud, and I’m not always the best at putting those ideas into action. Matt refused to let me coast. If I mentioned an idea he felt had merit, saying that was something that I'd hope to get round to one day, his whole face would light up. “No, Roz, you should do that now,” he’d say, and before I could weasel out of it, he’d already fetched a notebook, opened a terminal, given me a commit bit, fixed my blockers, and was patiently waiting for me to get over myself. I’d fire off objections, and he’d let me rant. Then he’d give me that look - “Are you done?” - and poke me to crack on with it.

He challenged me. But he also cheered for me, loudly, awkwardly, and sincerely. He just instinctively knew what I needed.

I also knew him personally. We had this strange, sacred little ritual. There was no name for it that stuck, that was part of the game to signal it with some melodramatic geek or metal title, like “A Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul.” That was our shorthand for “I need to share with you the dark, shameful, horrible thoughts that are bothering me right now.” We didn’t try to fix or explain them. No armchair psychoanalysis. No running away screaming in sheer horror at the ugliness. Just two people being raw, vulnerable and human, exposing our demons to sunlight to disinfect them, robbing fear and shame of its power, knowing that we'd still be accepted by each other rather than shunned. It’s not part of any therapeutic model I’ve ever heard of, but it helped us both a lot.

But our friendship wasn’t perfect.

My husband Daimen was new to Perl, still learning, and someone Matt had taken under his wing until he very abruptly and very publicly decided wasn’t worth his time and effort. To this day we still can’t pinpoint what exactly Daimen did wrong. It wasn’t just a refusal to offer help and time going forward, but an entire character assassination. Rather than fishing him out of the pool, Matt jumped in and held my husband’s head under the water.

It was painful to witness, difficult to reconcile with my own experience, and left Daimen with a negative impression of the Perl community. For him, it wasn't TIMTOWTDI, it was There Is More Than One Way To Do It But If You Fail The mst Sniff Test You Never Realised You’d Signed Up For You’re Castigated And Cast Out.

It sadly caused a rift between us that never healed. Matt followed me from a distance, occasionally liking or responding when the topic felt “safe.” Tech. Politics. Nothing personal. Leaving the ball in my court for when I was ready to confront him about this. That’s what made it so hard to read Curtis Poe’s remembrance, about Matt feeling like he had so few friends left, because I still cared so very deeply about him. Because with the news of his death I imagined what I would say to him if given one last opportunity, and was left with the realisation that reconciliation was just a Long Dark Tea-Time Of the Soul away. One more moment of brutal honesty and grace.

But I also know that if I spent too thinking and talking about that, Matt would shoot me that look when I was done, give me a hug, and then a poke. “Right then, JFDI”.