I have an imaginary friend named Dooce

I’ve developed a huge internet crush on Heather Armstrong, based on her blog Dooce, which I’ve been reading daily for about a year. Recently, I’ve started going through the archives and just being immersed in her. And I love her! I love her the way you love a character in a book, ie Bridget Jones, and wish that said character could be your friend. So you get a bit obsessed with the author, but the author, while probably brilliant and clever and charming, is not the same as ficto-person. You settle for smoking Silk Cut.

But Heather is real, not imaginary. And only a year and a half older than me. And sometimes visits San Francisco. And she’s funny and snarky and creative and clever and sweet and judgmental. If I were in the habit of thinking up imaginary friends to fill my emotional voids, then she. would. be. IT.

I am despondent on days when she does not post. Because our relationship is so one-sided, I’m really dependent upon her to tell me some form of helloes. I don’t get to start the conversation from my end. And while I guess I could send her an e-mail, she must get at least 8 requests per day to be Suzie or Beth or Todd’s new best friend. I’m definitely better than any person who might happen to be named Suzie, but I can’t imagine Heather agrees to adopt new pen pals.

Although frankly, how would that work if she did?
Ok, so I lied when I said I couldn’t imagine it.  Because I can.  And it would be weird:

Maggie to Dooce:
Dear Heather,
I adore you. <List of reasons, ad nauseum>. I wish that you would be my friend. If you got to know me, I think you’d find that I’m kinda funny and charming, too. Be my friend?
xo,
Maggie

Dooce to Maggie:
I’m a sucker for a friend request. I’m in. You have an odd penchant for weasels and I like that.

Maggie to Dooce:
Yay! I’m so stoked! I will commence being your friend right now! But, um, this e-mail correspondence seems to be petering out, so… right. We’ll do more friend stuff later, yeah?

Dooce to Maggie:
Hell to the yes. Right back atcha. Look me up if you’re ever in Utah.

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