Me Loves Me
It was then that I fell in love with me.
“How do you live with yourself?” she said, a disgusted look on her face, and turned on her heel and flounced away.
“Well,” I said to no one in particular as I balefully watched her go, “it has been a long and interesting story. I first met me about 41 years ago, in a small hospital in Covina, California. I think my mother was there when we met, but I don’t think my Dad was around. I was quite taken with myself at an early age, but I didn’t always return the interest. Sometimes I even felt snubbed by me, and so I would get discouraged. We were merely acquaintances for a long time, for maybe thirty years. We saw each other often, but didn’t really communicate with one another at all. Don’t get me wrong; we weren’t enemies, but we weren’t the best of friends, either. And then one day it happened: I saw myself across the room and I looked back. Our eyes met. It was then that I fell in love with me. I tentatively asked myself out on a date to the movies, and to my surprise, I accepted. I think we saw “A Beautiful Mind.” Afterwards, we went to Pittock Mansion in the hills above Portland and just talked for hours and hours. From then on, we sought every opportunity to be together and became almost inseparable. Sometimes I would buy me pies, or take me on long hikes in the mountains or on the beach. Other times I would just hold my hand and stare at me for hours. In time, it simply made more sense to ask me to move in with me. So I did. Since then, life has had its struggles; the money problems, the doctor bills, but all in all, I’m just happy to be living with me by my side, going through life, almost as one.”
When I finished my story, my antagonist was long gone. So I turned and looked at me lovingly and slowly made my way through the noisy crowd.