Why I Hate My Imaginary Friend

My imaginary friend Rufus is a pain in my ass.

It's not just the little things, such as leaving the toilet seat up (yes, I hate that) or not cleaning up the messes he leaves in my room or taking a leak and spraying it everywhere but the toilet. All that stuff is aggravating and annoying, but he does other things that arise the ire in me to an even more exaggerated degree.

Sometimes, his girlfriend will visit from Duke (a.k.a., New Jersey State University at North Carolina), and he'll insist on trying to squeeze her into bed with us. Now, usually, I let him sleep with me, which raises problems in and of itself, most notably the possibility of his piece rubbing against me. I shudder at the thought, and I'm just happy it hasn't happened. Yet. But when she comes over, he wants her to sleep with him. I tell Rufus to take her whore ass out to the futon, but he refuses every time. He absolutely has to sleep in our bed with her. So there are the three of us. Sardines, struggling to sleep. And God forbid they begin to feel somewhat amorous, because that makes it harder to sleep. I mean, they've never even asked me to join. I'd probably say no even if they did, though, because of my fear of rubbing against his piece.

Rufus is also a free loader. I'm always paying for stuff for him, but he'll never return the favor. He uses the same, tired "But I'm imaginary. No one can see me. How can I pay?" excuse every time. Sounds like a cop out if you ask me. I mean, he could always give me the money, and I could pay if being seen is so important.

We fight about temperature, too. I like it cold rather than hot if I'm about to go to sleep, because if you're cold, you can always get more blankets. If you're hot, it's not like you can take your skin off. But because he's invisible, he gets colder easier, so he likes it hotter. We try to outlast each other before bed because the last person to sleep can set the temperature to his liking. Sometimes, I pretend like I'm asleep, then, he'll change the temperature, and when he finally falls asleep, I'll sneak out to the living room and change the setting. Then he wakes up pissed the next morning, and I have to deal with that shit all day. But it doesn't bother me too much because if he starts bitching excessively, I can just pretend he's not there. It's the advantage of having an imaginary friend.

Rufus has pissed me off to such an extent, that I'm thinking for forgetting about him. Once I stop imagining him, he'll go away. I think it's time we moved on. I mean, I'm 22 years old, and people look at me cockeyed when I appear to be talking to myself.