I’m re-watching Gilmore Girls for the umpteenth time.
Mark and I watch an episode or two per night and just got to season six (which is considered the last true season of the show if you’re a Gilmore purist).
It’s a juicy one.
Rory just quit Yale and is living in her grandparent’s pool house, on their tab (though proclaiming herself an “independent woman” - cue my eye roll). Lorelai proposed to Luke. We’re mere episodes away from Jess’s return (yes, I’m #TeamJess, though Logan is kind of growing on me this season… will report back). I’m just as invested in the drama as 14-year-old Julia was watching the series in real-time back in 2006.
But there’s a scene from season five that has been living in my mind rent-free for the past week, and where better to mull it over than in my wee-little corner of the internet?
It’s a moment between Kirk (Sean Gunn) and Luke (Scott Patterson), during which the former asks the latter for advice on how to have a more grown-up relationship because he’s scared his girlfriend, Lulu (Rini Bell), will leave him soon if they don’t start having “sleepovers.” Fans of the show know Kirk hasn’t had very much luck with romantic relationships, but you don’t realize just how down on his luck the guy’s been until he confesses, “I had an imaginary girlfriend for a while when I was young, but she left me.”
That got me thinking about imaginary friends, which definitely was not the point of this comedic moment, but oh well.
According to research published in the journal Developmental Psychology back in 2004, 65% of children have at least one imaginary friend by the age of 7. However, in an interview with The Atlantic in 2019, professor of psychology at UC Berkeley and primary investigator at the Kidd Lab, Celeste Kidd said that while having an imaginary friend is a normal part of child development, the jury’s still out on what prompts it.
I have a theory, though.
Granted, I’m not a psychologist, but I think, in some instances, kids create imaginary friends to fill a void; to be what they need in a particular moment.
At least, that was my experience.
I wasn’t diagnosed with severe IBS until college, but I struggled with symptoms from an early age (like elementary school early). That translated to my spending a lot of time by myself, in the bathroom, writhing in pain.
Looking back, it’s really not all that surprising that my imaginary friend was inspired by a shower curtain.
The specifics of the shower curtain are a little fuzzy. I think it was green, with a gold or white design, but I could be wrong. The colors are irrelevant. What matters is, that the shower curtain was adorned with the silhouette of an angel playing an instrument. I think it was the trumpet or a harp. Again, not important. What was important was the comfort that angel, who I inaptly named “Fairy,” brought little Julia (I was five, maybe six years old) when she was shaking from inconsolable muscle spasms and didn’t know why.
Fairy was part of my mother’s seasonal decor. When Little Christmas came to a close, she was taken down with the rest of the holiday’s decorations. But that didn’t stop me from talking to her, confiding in her, and seeking her comfort year-round. I needed something to calm me down, and Fairy served as a nice distraction.
I haven’t thought about Fairy in years. Maybe decades. But thinking about her now, I realize that my imaginary friend was, in actuality, a manifestation of the strength I summon from within myself in those moments when my body was behaving in a way that I couldn’t understand.
I also realize that, as someone who’s written fiction since she was 10 years old, I’ve had dozens of imaginary friends in my life, who have helped me understand things about myself, about the things I’m going through, or just the world around me, time and again.
When Kirk says he once had an imaginary girlfriend who left him, I laughed. After all, it was a joke. But the sentiment has (clearly) stuck with me. I, too, once had an imaginary friend who left me, but only because she’d served her purpose. But I’ve since encountered many angels. They come to me at random, and I put their lessons to paper.
It might sound silly, but I think imaginary friends are kind of magical. I hope I meet more of them as time goes on.
So, I’m curious: Did you have an imaginary friend when you were a child? I’d love to hear about them in the comments below. What was their name? What did they look like? Why do you think they came to you when they did? I want to know it all.
And if you want to know what’s been published under my byline this week, allow me:
I waxed poetic about the return of the Pretty Little Liars aesthetic for Instyle.
I interviewed DC’s new Supergirl, Sasha Calle, about Coach’s Pride Campaign.
I rounded up my favorite fashion-focused Father’s Day gifts.
I spoke to stylists about the Luxe Leisure trend.
I rounded up the 15 best eyeshadow palettes for 2022.
I tested Scarlett Johansson’s beauty label, The Outset, and it’s good. Real good.
I had one, her name was Violet Evergreen. She was a princess. She came to me around the time I was 5 or 6 years old. I think she came because at that time I wasn't the beat at making friends, so she just became my best friend. They had purple hair, green eyes like me, and were as tall as me.
I never had one. But I lived a lot through television.