Drop dead Fred

I never had an imaginary friend when I was little, but I remember watching this movie with Rick Mayall, and being heartbroken for the main character when she finally got rid of him forever.

I've had my own odd experience in recent times with one I can only say is more in my head than reality. In fact we used to jokingly call him my imaginary friend because he would so consistently forget everything I'd say and do that it seemed I may as well have been the only one there.

At times I would (half) jokingly say my company was so traumatising he'd blocked me out. But looking back this is more likely attributable to my invisibility than any malice on his part.

Lately it's emerged just how close to the truth I was. It turns out that the person I could have sworn I was friends with didn't exist, in fact I had read him completely incorrectly. And now here I am having finally extricated myself from that situation (not using the movie methods) I'm doing my best to learn from it, and I think there is definitely some blame to be thrown my way.

Too often we get offended at someone who "doesn't truly know me" or "is only seeing what they want to see". I have always assumed I was on the misunderstood side of the fence and that empathy helped me see where others were coming from, but now I reckon I am just as bad at this as everybody else, and it's really screwed me here.

You forget all those times that you made an extra effort to see the good side of a situation, where for somebody else you couldn't be arsed. You suppress the little things that irritate you in favour of seeing a glimmer of the person they could be. And those warning bells? What warning bells (I thought that was tinnitus)? I think in the future I will stop being so arrogant about my people-reading skills and just try listening to my friends who I was convinced didn't know crap and would never see what I did. Man was I wrong.

I've also decided to revise my "sorry" policy. It's been a (perhaps misguided) source of pride for me that I will forgive just about any slight on me if the person genuinely apologises. Given I now acknowledge my lack of skill in determining authenticity, I think a conditional acceptance of remorse is a better idea. I hate to be so cold about it, but they don't need to know my thinking process either. Wait until true contrition is demonstrated before dropping the walls. Let's hope I don't get into that situation again soon.

I don't really trust anything at the moment aside from a few close people, and I'd be nowhere without those non-imaginary friends. It is so odd, though, saying goodbye to someone who never existed, the concept of whom evaporated like smoke or Keyser Söze. But I feel much better now than I have in ages, and I plan for this to be as much of a positive experience as it can be.

Now kiss me and say "Drop dead Meg"