The non-refundable plane tickets are booked. I’m going to visit my arch enemy.
OK, ex-arch-enemy. Because we’ve become friends.
Well, really, ex-imaginary-arch-business-enemy. Because I made up the enemy part in my head. She never had any part in it.
She’s a fellow copywriter/entrepreneur. People have often said to me, “You know who your writing reminds me of? Do you know The Middle Finger Project?” I’d smile and, soon as that person was out of earshot, screw up my face and repeat in nasty-baby voice, “Doyouknowthemiddlefingerproject?”
Who wants to hear they’re like someone else? Especially someone else who’s more famous and has a bigger online business?
On the other hand, we women don’t have to tear each other down. It’s time to hold each other up, rejoice in other women’s successes! Together, we’re more powerful! Blah blah blah.
I compulsively read her blog posts, looking for one that sucked donkey dick.
Never found it, a fact which deepened our furious feud-that-didn’t-exist.
But then, my imaginary arch enemy complimented me one day to all her Twitter followers, and I thought, “This chick’s not all bad.”
We started instant messaging, admitting in unison that we were both typing from the toilet. JINX! Our friendship was sealed.
Every time I complain about winter, which is constantly, she invites me to visit her in Costa Rica. She lives there.
So I’m going. Just like that.
Looked on Orbitz, half-hoped there wouldn’t be any flights left, found one, reminded myself that my life is better when I do new things that might be scary and even require me to get up at the crack of culo to get to JFK than when I tool around all weekend yet again.
Snagged the one remaining nonstop ticket for weekend after next, felt crazy, hit “CONFIRM PURCHASE.”
We haven’t even spoken on phone or Skype. No voices. No faces (though there are plenty of photos that show we both have brown hair and big boobs, so we also have that to talk about). It’s purely an e-pistolary relationship.
I don’t know what she eats, whether she uses conditioner, or what time she goes to bed and gets up. I just learned her fiancé’s name.
Maybe she smokes crack. Maybe she strangles the local monkeys and keeps them as trophies in the freezer. Who knows? I haven’t done a criminal background check on her, and I don’t think she’s done one on me. (Though the time I was caught eating cherries before paying for them at Fairway was a juvenile offense, so that record is sealed anyway.)
I do know she has a guest room, it’s warm there, we were meant to be friends. So glad we got over our one-sided, imaginary, bitter rivalry.
Do you have any imaginary enemies?
Do you get over it as soon as they’re nice to you?
When’s the last time you did something that freaked you out but made you kind of proud of yourself for doing it?
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