My evil twin is ruining my life.
No, she’s not my real twin, she’s my Doppleganger, a complete stranger who–according to everyone else–looks exactly like me.
I’ve never met my Doppleganger, (it is definitely considered a bad omen to do so), but I have certainly met the people she’s scorned.
It started in July, 2008; I was shopping for groceries with one of my sisters, when a portly fellow with skinny legs approached us. His introduction: “You remember me?” Me: “I don’t know you.”
“Oh, you know me,” he said. Then he called me “bogus” for skipping out on him after he bought me and my girls drinks at a local club.
I don’t drink, I don’t go clubbing, and my sister and I tried to explain that he had the wrong chick.
But he wasn’t buying it, “I know who I spend my money on,” he said, “and it was your bogus ass.” He noticed a woman walking toward him, and abruptly left to join her.
This guy was so convinced that I drank his wine and dashed that it was frightening. But it wasn’t me.
It happened again, in the summer of 2009, when I encountered an elderly Marine at the roller rink. This man saw me berate my son at his birthday party the weekend before, and he didn’t appreciate it. “That’s a man-child, and I wasn’t going to check you right then, but you should never, ever, call your kid those names. And you wonder why these boys are so soft these days.”
I don’t have a son. I have nephews, but trust, they’re bigger than me, and I would never yell at them. Oh, and I was at a skating rink that I had never visited before in California. I showed the Marine my Illinois license, and he apologized, followed by the ominous: “I could have sworn that was you, I looked right in your face.”
But it wasn’t me.
What’s problematic about my Doppleganger is that she doesn’t appear to be the most upstanding individual, and that brings me to my Girls’ Night Out a few days ago.
We were celebrating the Step into Soul event at the Shrine. As I was leaving, a young man approached me, and queried if I’m still “dancing.” He saw me and my girl, “perform at a party, and wanted to hire us for his upcoming birthday party. My boy already got the pole installed,” he boasted.
Unlike my previous encounters with strangers, I recognized this guy, he was a Facebook “friend,” a publicist.
I clarified that no, I wasn’t the dancer, but the editor that receives his pitches every now and then.
Boy, was this cutie pie embarrassed.
The good news is that he promised to send a pic of my Doppleganger in action at the party and that I’ll understand how he could have thought she was me.
Well, I hope that my boring life is just as embarrassing to her, as her shady life is embarrassing to me. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us!
So, what would you do if you met your Doppleganger?