For the past few weeks my daughter has been carting around a dirty, pink sock with crumpled up paper taped on for eyes and a mouth. I’ve come to learn this is her imaginary friend, “Socky.” She started telling me Socky’s likes and dislikes and asked if she could take him to school. My first instinct was to tell her no. I’m not sure you can get away with talking to yourself in Kindergarten. Then I realized if she feels like she needs to roll with a sock, who am I to deny her? Frankly, I’m a little jealous. Who doesn’t want an imaginary friend?
Being a stay at home mom can be lonely. I’m surrounded by amazing friends and family, but they have their own “stuff.” An imaginary friend would chill with me while I clean the kitchen. We could snark about news stories and listen to music. I’d be more inclined to go to the grocery store if I had an imaginary friend with me. It would certainly make cart dancing to Diana Ross a little less awkward. Plus, all the smelling and knocking in the world can’t help me pick the right cantaloupe. I basically need someone to keep my ass in check. I’m enthralled by movies about people who bungle through life until they’re visited by a dead ex-husband or girlfriend or George Burns. People think they’re crazy for a while, but once they’re “shown the way” everything works out. The movie ends with the person knowing they have finally gotten it right.
I started thinking about what kind of imaginary friend I’d want. I couldn’t have a man because I’d want him to look like Michael Vartan. We would end up having imaginary sex while waiting in the pick up line. I don’t really want a girl either. We’d end up on the same cycle and that grosses me out. I’m thinking my imaginary friend is half man/half women. The Michael Vartan half can help me figure out which grade of gas to put in the car and tell me I’m pretty. My imaginary girl half would have my back on the playground with some of the “cracka-ass-cracka” moms.
It could get old though. We would start to argue about working out and she’d tell me my ass is fat. I’d tell her she has a big zit on her chin. We’d realize we’re PMS’ing, hug and then eat something with bacon and cheese. Imaginary friends take on different forms when you’re an adult. It can be drugs, or shopping, or Social Networking. Come to think of it, sometimes I have an imaginary friend named “Sake”, too.