Though I do have plenty of friends, and I am perfectly capable of functionally socializing with them from time to time, the truth is the only time I am really truly comfortable is when I am alone.
(It’s Greta Garbo. If you don’t get it right away I don’t feel like explaining it. That’s what the internet is for.)
The problem with that is, I’m never alone.
First off let me start with a digression. I’ve never fully accepted the theory that you have to let go of your past to move forward into the future. I subscribe to the concept that our true self is somehow a composite of all the time we have (and will) spend on this planet. (Like in that book Kurt Vonnegut wrote.) “Time” therefore as a concept becomes meaningless. But this post isn’t about that. It’s about Imaginary Friends. (I like to start my blogs out with false pretenses. Blame Arlo Guthrie.)
I’m going to jump right on the bandwagon with the majority of the people here who wrote blogs on this subject by pointing out right away that I’ve never really had an imaginary friend. I do, however talk to myself. Constantly. (What’s even better is that I frequently answer myself, and I do in fact refer to myself in the form of multiple third persons. (Not out loud though. I like to think that’s the difference between me and “That Crazy Guy on the Bus.”)
To clarify, this never ending internal dialogue that runs through my head consists of a series of “Me’s” talking to “Myselves.” Every few years or so, this collection of former Me’s (and current Me) is joined by another former Me, (or future Me) and now that I am close to beginning my 40th year, it’s getting pretty noisy in here.
My interior dialogue consists almost entirely of an ongoing series of discussions between my current consciousness and those of my former selves.
If any of this is confusing, allow me to try to illuminate it with an example of what sort of thing goes on in my head at a key moment of the day, like when I’m trying to decide what I want to eat for dinner:
DOMINGO: (I’m using the capitalized version to indicate the inner voice of my “current,” or dominant voice ) “What do we want to eat?”
5 year old Domingo: “McDonald’s!”
DOMINGO: “I should eat healthy, and save money.”
7 year old Domingo: “Burger King!” (Throughout most of my childhood, I was a McDonald’s kid, but around the time when I was 7, there were Empire Strikes Back glasses that could be purchased at Burger King.)
DOMINGO: “I should try to eat healthy, and not spend money. I should go to the grocery store! Tuna fish sandwiches and fresh fruit!”
Recently Turned 21 Year Old Domingo: “Let’s just go to the bar and get drunk”
DOMINGO: “Hmmmmm…, I could go to the bar. Or maybe just sit home and drink some beer in front of my computer. I should eat first. What to eat?”
Teenage Angst Domingo: “What difference does it make? What difference does anything make? We’re all just going to die someday.”
DOMINGO: (completely ignoring Teenage Angst Domingo) “Maybe I could get a burger at the bar, then sit there and have a few gin n’ tonics”
Sexually Frustrated/Living in Fantasy Land Domingo: “Ooh! Maybe we’ll get laid!”
Teenage Angst Domingo: “SIGH!”
5 Year old Domingo: “McDonald’s!”
7 Year old Domingo: “Burger King!”
More sophisticated Post College 30 something Domingo: “Jimmy John’s”
DOMINGO: (Visualizing Jimmy John’s, which is actually downtown, and at least a 20 minute walk) “Hmmmm, maybe Jimmy John’s and then a downtown bar hopping adventure afterward. Wait: No no no, I should go buy some groceries!”
Recently turned 21 Domingo: “Then beer afterward?”
Liquor Preferring Domingo: “No: Let’s make White Russians!”
DOMINGO: “Don’t have enough money.”
Liquor Preferring Domingo: “Friday?”
DOMINGO: “Friday.”
Recently Turned 21 Domingo: “Pabst Blue Ribbon!”
Totally Lazy Domingo: “Let’s just have pizza delivered.”
DOMINGO: Don’t have enough money.”
Totally Lazy Domingo: “Friday?”
DOMINGO: “Friday.”
I don’t want to give the impression that these long debates over what to have for dinner and/or “To Drink or Not To Drink” go on every day, and I especially don’t want to give the impression that’s all we talk about. Sometimes we already know what I want. (Especially if We’ve decided I’m having Sweet n Sour Chicken when Domingo gets off work.) On the other hand, there are times when these internal debates go on for hours. There have even been occasions when they’ve gone on so long that my body begins to digest itself in frustration, and sometimes we simply end up cobbling together a meal out of whatever food I happen to have in our apartment at the time.
And sometimes I “talk myself into” going into some restaurant we’ve never been to, and then wandering around town on a really fun bar hopping adventure with all my former selves tagging along for the ride.
Maybe you’ve seen us. I’m this guy:
This is the first time I have tried to take part in a weekly blog prompt. (This one was about Imaginary Friends) I probably didn’t do it right, but here’s a link to a bunch of folks who did:
Not Necessarily About Dinosaurs or Anything Else 