Making Friends

Wildcat File Photo Arizona Daily Wildcat Chloe Lung

I don't recall how old I was when my imaginary friend appeared, but I do remember the first time I heard the word "Texas," the way I formed the word slowly with my mouth, enjoying the sound. This must have been her birth.

It is common for children to develop imaginary playmates. These friends serve to occupy space at tea parties, act as scapegoats, and communicate with parents. For instance, a kid might say, "Texas is scared to start kindergarten," or "Texas smeared paint on the cat," using the "friend" as a bridge for admitting difficult things.

Eventually, however, such buddies become obsolete. Children's need for this sort of companionship dwindles when the kid starts school, or maybe, as in my case, when parents decide to introduce a real sibling.

In fact, many of the more simple needs of early childhood sort of disappear in later development, only to pop up again in college. Suddenly, basic companionship, a mediator with distant parents, and someone to blame for everyday follies are in demand once again.

I contend that college students, just like preschoolers, need imaginary friends. More than any orientation program or improved Student Union, imaginary friends could solve adjustment problems and provide entertainment, as well as improve communication.

Some might say that a person in his late teens to early twenties doesn't have the imagination, the fluid sense of reality, that it takes to create a faux companion. Baloney. Anyone who's ever stretched a paper to make length requirement has the skills of invention to make a friend. The only requirements are a list of ideal characteristics (a car, excellent spelling), and a good name, like Texas.

Once the imaginary friend has been brought into being, she can work to improve one's social life. "I'm hanging out with Texas tonight" just has such a nicer ring to it than, "I'm renting the 'Breakfast Club' and rearranging the shampoo bottles in my shower."

Just like imaginary friends of earlier days, the imaginary college student makes a good scapegoat. Consider how much easier explanations to professors will be. Just say, "Texas downloaded a virus off the Internet and erased my midterm. She feels really bad about the whole thing."

Perhaps the greatest benefit of the imaginary friend is how she can help to express difficult things. This is a particular asset when dealing with parents. There's no need to worry about calling home with news like, "Texas spent her rent money on booze and needs a loan." They will understand. They know that imaginary friends are prone to this sort of behavior. This approach can work with even more difficult phone calls, like, "Mom, Dad, Texas is gay."

The vulnerability of childhood makes imaginary companions an important growth tool. So too with college: there's no reason to go it alone.

Chlo‘ Lung is a religious studies sophomore with more friends than you can imagine. (But not more than she can.) She can be reached at Chloe.Lung@wildcat.arizona.edu.