Imaginary (Boy)friends

Daniel Spann had short, slightly shaggy brown hair that he parted down the center of his forehead. He had perfectly creamy skin that seemed flawless and a smile that could light up a room. He was lively, and popular. He always had something to say, and he always wore this beat up old Miami Dolphins jacket that was puffy and slightly oversized.

He was by far the best looking kid in Ms. Hodges fourth grade class.

I had the biggest crush on him ever.

But I was awkward. I was so quiet and afraid of embarrassing myself. And I never said more than three words to him. Even that was only so I could ask where third base was during a kickball game, a question which I now find somewhat ironic. I told Katie Howe that I liked him while riding in the back seat of my mother's station wagon after a play date, and was immediately sorry to have let her in on my earth-shattering secret. Short of my kindergarten romance with the little blond boy down the street, Daniel Spann was the first real crush I had ever had.

Before I go any further, you should know that I was a really imaginative kid. Just before fourth grade, my family moved and I switched elementary schools. Shortly after I was enrolled at Granberry instead of Tusculum, my made-up world exploded to include more than my normal cast of imaginary or fantasy characters. And slowly, I ended up replacing my fantasy world of fairies and my being a yet undiscovered savior of the human race and stuffed animal kingdom with the fantasy world of myself being married to Daniel Shaw.

Yes, we were maybe 20 feet away from each other during class everyday, but I made up a whole personality for him. You know, since I really didn't know who he was. He was completely devoted to my every emotion and would be the first one to come if I was upset or hurt or in pain. Without saying a word he was checking on me. Reaching out and touching my leg while looking deep into my eyes and making sure I was all right. We communicated silently, and, of course, no one could see him or know he was there but me. We were a secret to the outside world. Still, he was next to me always. In the back seat of the car I could look over at him and feel his hand tighten around mine.

Naturally, being my husband, he inherited a role as co-ruler of my fantasy world. Everybody knew who we were. Birds, trees and all things natural and imaginary were beautiful and created just for us. At night he slept with his arm around me (before I ever knew what spooning was), and we fell asleep and dreamed the same dreams.

He became the way I talked to myself. Because I was always talking to him. But no one knew. No one saw; it was all very secret make-believe. Except, of course, for the time Jessica Sawyer saw my mouth moving while walking alone around the playground. She accused me publicly of talking to a pine cone, and I hated her for years afterward.

Sometimes I really wish there were a Daniel for me now. Fourteen years later, I have never really forgotten him. And even after I did forget the details, like how he was so good at playing piano, and the time he stood perfectly still as a bee crawled up his neck and everyone else jumped away screaming, I still remember him more as a feeling that I wish I could have back. I guess in a way I've been searching for him in every guy I meet. That smile and those eyes with that caring way about him and the connection to me where he feels exactly what I feel as he sinks himself into me and we are the center of each other's universe, quietly going about life hand in hand.

But it was my life we were going about then. And the smile and the eyes ironically belonged to someone altogether different. Someone I didn't even know, really. It was innocence and naivete to think that a love like that could be real. Because the Daniel I “knew” didn't have a past, didn't have ex-girlfriends or old unforgotten love affairs, or girls they fell for or were shunned over. The Daniel I knew hardly even fell in love. He was just there, loving me every second. And no one can expect to find that in this world. Thats why imaginary friends die off when the real world hits.

My Daniel ceased to exist the minute Jeff Crews publicly humiliated me for liking him in sixth grade, thus beginning my disenchantment with fairy tales. The complexity of adolescent emotions, and the disillusionment of young adulthood blew Daniel out of the water, out of my mind. And I do know he doesn't exist. But it doesn't always stop me from being disappointed when I figure out how unimportant some people find me.

And for me the ideal is still there on a shelf somewhere. And Daniel has become a piece of furniture in my collection of ideals. He's a reason not to give up.