I'm a Grown Man Who Sleeps With Stuffed Animals—And That's Normal
"In Our O-Pinion" is an OprahMag.com series where we share our unsolicited takes on everything from bathroom etiquette to whether or not you should split the bill at group dinners. Here, senior editor Jonathan Borge defends his right to snuggle.
My relationship with Kit and Bun isn’t taken very seriously. “Get that thing away from me!” a close friend always says whenever I bounce either of their pint-size fluffy bodies in her direction. “It’s so weird that you do this-especially when you make them talk.”
But...is it weird?
I’m a 27-year-old man who sleeps with his two favorite stuffed animals, and I’m not embarrassed to say so. For about four years, Kit and Bun have grown closer to me than certain relatives I groan at the sight of ever will. They cuddle with me in bed every night. They’ve squeezed into my carry-on for over a dozen trips, earning frequent-flyer status. And whenever I decide to take on the role of ventriloquist, these two indeed tend to, err, speak up around loved ones-with distinct catchphrases, precise inflection, and sometimes, a little bit of sass.
What began as a joke quickly snowballed into two lifelong friendships. Kit, an adorable black-and white plush puppy with an innocent smile, was gifted to me as a sweet gesture from my boyfriend. The first time I saw her, my face lit up; she brought me an immediate sense of childlike joy. Months later, said boyfriend surprised me with Bun, a squishy mouse with glasses as round as my own. I quickly became enamored with Kit and Bun because, without fail, they always provided what humans could not: instant comfort.
I’m aware that admitting I not only sleep with, but also speak to and assign voices for, my stuffed animals might make me sound immature. (Or maybe even a weirdo with seriously suppressed issues.)
However, I’m not alone.
A 2018 study conducted by OnePoll and Life Storage reportedly found that four in 10 adults, or 43 percent, still engage with a stuffed animal. And surprisingly, 84 percent of men own at least one, compared to the 77 percent of women who do. And in 2017, Best Mattress Brand polled over 2,000 Americans and learned that millennials (a.k.a. my generation) are the largest group to still sleep with stuffed animals-and that only 29 percent of people would feel bothered if their partner cuddled with their own versions of Kit and Bun.
Polls aside, the camaraderie that my two inanimate objects (or friends, as I prefer calling them) provide also seems to be supported by science. As the Chicago Tribune points out, British psychologist and pediatrician Donald Winnicott coined the term “transitional object” to describe the items we easily grow attached to-stuffed animals, special blankets, or old pieces of clothing, for instance. Apparently, they help us feel less stressed after separation of any kind. And while this is most common with infants and toddlers, multiple studies have shown that adults can benefit from touching something comforting-especially those with low self-esteem.
Admittedly, I had a rather emotionally turbulent childhood (sorry, mom and dad!) that led to the development of psychological trauma in my adulthood. As a kid, my rotating mix of Beanie Babies helped me get through stressors like my mother’s cancer diagnosis or-not quite as scary-the angst that came with meeting new classmates on the first day of school. My “transitional objects” have always made me feel less isolated, and so it makes sense that years later, my relationship with Kit and Bun doubles as a coping mechanism for anxiety.
But I believe you don’t need some convoluted, science-backed reason to want to play with stuffed animals at any age. When I do choose to interact with Kit and Bun, it’s not because I’m longing to get to the bottom of an emotion, the way I would during a session with my psychotherapist. It’s simply because I'm looking to have fun. Because for a moment, I want to forget about real-life responsibilities.
As a writer and storyteller, I’ve developed fully-fledged plotlines for Kit and Bun’s lives. Kit is a precocious pre-K student with a passion for Madewell denim skirts and an affinity for doing what’s right. Her mischievous sister, Bun, however, is a huge flirt who isn’t afraid of telling it like it is-and who’s racked up major debt on her department store credit card.
See? It’s amusing. An escape.
My friends are well aware of my stuffed anmals' unique personalities, so much so that they’ve conditioned themselves into properly greeting Kit and Bun whenever they come over for movie night. And the dynamic duo became a key part of the relationship I have with the boyfriend who gifted them to me. After years of owning them, Kit and Bun would swoop in to interject during our arguments, acting as buffers to get us to push the conversation toward the better. We cared for them together with as much intensity as pet owners care for their actual animal friends.
No matter how hard the going gets, Kit and Bun are always there to make me laugh. They also serve as soft, cotton-padded figurines I can-literally-cry on. As you’d expect, some of my loved ones raise their eyebrows at the sight of me interacting with them in my spare time. But the point of maintaining the friendship I’ve created with these two stuffed animals isn’t to impress anyone. Instead, it’s to make myself feel better-to get one step closer to living my ideal of a best life.
So no, I’m not ashamed of considering Kit and Bun two of the closest friends in my life. And I don’t plan to get rid of them or put a halt to the imaginary adventures I create for them each day. In fact, considering they were purchased from the kids’ department at H&M and plenty of their adorable lookalikes are available online, I’ll end with an idea I’ve been pondering for a while: it may be time for my family to grow.
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