Essays

The Best Friends I’ve Never Met

I have a question… am I the only one who, while watching some television program or listening to a radio broadcast, sees or hears a person and thinks… you know, if I met that person, I just know we’d become fast friends. I’ll be watching and I start thinking, wow, that person is pretty great. I bet if I met them, they would really love me. This just happened to me tonight. Karen and I were watching a program on the home and garden channel, I think it was called small spaces, big design… or some such thing, and there was this couple from Houston. They were both artists and they lived in this funky little house. I sat, watching them interact with each other and their space, and totally dug them. They laughed often, were playful, and you could tell they totally loved each other. Simply, they were cool. Then I started thinking… they would be great to know. I turned to Karen after seeing them and thinking all of this and told her I really loved them and was sure, if they got to know us, they would love us too. She just nodded and responded like, uh, yeah, they would love us. I feel she might have been a tad skeptical, but then, this was my fantasy, not hers. I can see how anyone outside my head might not share my enthusiasm for this imagined connection.

Then I realized, with a laugh, what my problem is. I’ve just never met a whole lot of people I just know I would become friends with… if they only knew me. It’s the same way I felt as a kid about some musicians and actors, and later about some poets and writers. If they only knew me, if we somehow just ran into each other, they would instinctively know I understand them. There would be, at the moment of meeting, a little glimmer of deep recognition in their eyes. It would be as if they had finally been found. Finally really been seen…by me. And right from that deep and meaningful first meeting, we would skip happily into the rest of our lives, picking daisies, sharing inside jokes, birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, and being there for each other in a way the rest of the world would be totally jealous of, and never really able to understand.

What this all means is that I’ve been walking around missing all the life I could have and should be experiencing now. There are people out there missing me, and they don’t even know it. Which, if you think about it, must be sad for them. An ache they can’t explain, a sadness coming over them, occasionally, they don’t understand. A longing for something they can’t put their finger on. The thing I’ve just now figured out they need… me.

If people would allow themselves to run with this line of thinking, the possibilities for living a magical life are endless. For instance… not only are there friends I know out there waiting to be found by me, but there’s also money I’ve yet to spend. I just know I have some rich relative whom I don’t know (so I wouldn’t be emotionally saddened by their loss) who is going to leave me millions of dollars so I can, as I’ve always dreamed of, pay off my mom’s house, travel for months at a time, and buy the freedom a person can’t have when one has to work. In fact, a more likely scenario is that the people I’ve yet to meet, are themselves rich, and after meeting me decide to give me all the money I could ever need. Letting me live in a manner to which I know I could easily become accustom.

I’m sure this is how the sci-fi writers started the whole parallel universe idea. One or more of them was sitting around thinking these exact same things. Out there is the perfect life, the other existence, the better and more fashionable me. Because in that mysterious out there, somewhere, is the life the other me is living, right this moment. That magical other life… the one in which I am never grumpy, or angry, or sad. The life where I get to sleep in every day, meet fun and interesting people, eat whatever I want without gaining weight, get to travel when and where I want on a whim, and have endless supplies of all my favorite food in the refrigerator, my favorite cds on the shelf, and my favorite movies at my finger tips.

I’m sure, like the couple in Houston, that in my other life, all these fabulous and interesting people, who never have problems or attitudes or bad days, are my life long friends. We have met and hang together constantly, looking at the art they’ve created, eating their exotic cooking, complimenting each other, supporting each other, and always, without question, have fascinating conversations.

After the show was over, the TV turned off, the laugh had by Karen and myself about my little epiphany, I quietly snuggled in ready to sleep and really thought about it. And you know what? I had another epiphany. All those people I don’t know, all the places I haven’t gone, and all the inconveniences of every day life I experience now, are what add the spice to life. Those very things, like all the other stuff in life I haven’t yet done, are what bring the magic to the life I’m living now. It’s not so bad not being friends with Mr. and Mrs. Houston, because what they represent is the future, the possibility that some day, I may meet them, or someone like them. They represent my excitement and hope about tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that. So, although I know, if we did happen to cross paths, that we would become instant pals, I also know I’m content waiting… for the meeting, the doing, and all the living that’s coming my way.

One thought on “The Best Friends I’ve Never Met

  1. I just know that Dr. John would like you. Hell I think he’d even like me. If I didn’t know you and you were on TV I just know we’d click and I’d be right. stan

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