When I first received my Other.Selfie(TM) I was ecstatic. Finally, I could look forward to all the things I'd put off in the past, because of work and the avalanche of responsibilities I was buried under. In fact, I had been such a good corporate soldier that I had racked up enough holiday days to easily disappear for six months and still get paid leave.
The orientation process went very smoothly. Other.Selfie(TM) and I saw eye-to-eye on everything. He second-guessed my every move, even finished some of my sentences! It felt like a match made in heaven and it was great having him around to take care of all the admin and nonsense that had distracted me from what I really wanted to do.
The advice had been not to get one that was identical to myself in every way, because that would creep people out (not to mention, myself, quite possibly). So, I chose a slightly younger version of myself. Okay, fair enough, to be absolutely honest it was an idealised version of my younger self. In fact, I found him pleasing to look at. Whenever friends of mine encountered him, they would ask what treatment I had done to look so young. I didn't know whether to be jealous, or take it as a compliment.
The manual also said that I should take a good few weeks to acclimate him properly to his surroundings, but I didn't follow that advice. He seemed to get the hang of things very quickly. Besides, he already had my memories up to the moment I'd gone to the Selfie shop, so I didn't really see the point. Truthfully, I couldn't wait to get out of town and have some fun. It had been so long since I'd done anything impulsive like that, perhaps ever. This is the real reason why I left.
I came to regret that decision.
I suppose in hindsight, I should have guessed that the transition would not be an easy process. When I returned from my vacation, I discovered that Other.Selfie(TM) had redecorated my flat. He said that the paint was peeling and that it was in need of a refresher. Also, he didn't like the previous colour. He found it drab and uninspiring. There were fresh flowers in every room, which I found an affectation, but he insisted that it brought life and movement into what was, otherwise, a bachelor's hovel.
Speaking of being a bachelor, I noticed that there were little female mementos around the place. I didn't recognise them as belonging to anyone I knew and he wouldn't tell me who they belonged to, either. I didn't mind him having some fun, as long as it wasn't at my expense.
He dressed better than I did, although a bit "dandy" for my taste. He had good taste, though, I'm not quibbling that. It's just that it wasn't my taste, even though it was my life he was making-over. I suspected there were boundary issues.
The worst was yet to come. As I tried to get back into the swing of things, I discovered that my flat wasn't the only thing that had been re-arranged. My friends would often call him to go out and do things. When I'd ask them about it, they'd make some lame excuse that they forgot I was back in town. When I finally confronted one of them about it, I found them more candid. Apparently, they just preferred my Other.Selfie(TM) to me. "Why?" I asked. He was just more fun, they said. He was more impulsive, had more interesting things to say, and just brought more life to the party.
This made me very angry and I sulked for awhile. I even tried to punish my Other.Selfie(TM) by taking certain privileges away. This escalated over the course of the week, until, eventually, he capitulated. He sat down next to me, put his hand around my shoulder and tried to soothe me. It was absurd. He was the child and I was the adult and, yet, he was the one who was comforting me, as if I was a baby! He told me that he understood how I felt - exactly - but that I had to come to terms that there were two of us, now. Nothing would ever be the same.
I wanted him to sleep on the sofa, but he'd end up climbing into bed next to me. At first, I protested, but ultimately gave in. There wasn't anything sexual about it, but there was something comforting about embracing yourself at night. I felt less alone. We snored in rhythm.
Gradually, I became the house-husband. I kept the place as tidy as I could, cooked the meals, and did the washing up, while he went to my job and took over my affairs. At least we got to go out together with my friends. And, truth be told, he really was the life of the party. I didn't regret him coming into my life. He made it better, richer than before.
At least, now, I had a lot more time to focus on my own, personal projects.