My other twin
It seems like forever, but after a series of e-mails, I’m finally going to meet up with S. We’ve been doing a dance, of sorts, trying to find a date and time to meet. Since I work later than he does, he agrees to meet me.
Even though it’s rainy, S is standing at the door of Starbucks with his umbrella. We greet each other, go inside, order our coffees, and wait to find a seat. It takes longer than normal because some people are sitting at tables even though they’re not patrons of the establishment.
For the next while, our conversation runs smoothly. We talk about a little of everything. But, at around the 20-minute mark, it hits me: he’s my other twin.
True, he’s taller than me, his hair and eyes are a different colour, and he's a couple years younger than I am.
Beside that, he’s like me. We have similar opinions, and ask a lot of questions (many of which we are sure we have the answer to, but are inevitably afraid of wanting to know the actual truth because it’s not what we want to know).
Then again, this could be a lot of wishful thinking on my behalf. Maybe he’s nothing like me, and I see myself in him as a way of projection. Or, maybe he thinks the same thing, and finds a lot of similarities between us.
When I write S an e-mail the next day, I tell him about our talk the day before.
In his response, he tells me he found me interesting. That’s the kiss of death. It’s almost as bad as having someone call me nice.
Maybe we’re not identical, after all.
Well, that and I'm smarter and cuter than he is.
Even though it’s rainy, S is standing at the door of Starbucks with his umbrella. We greet each other, go inside, order our coffees, and wait to find a seat. It takes longer than normal because some people are sitting at tables even though they’re not patrons of the establishment.
For the next while, our conversation runs smoothly. We talk about a little of everything. But, at around the 20-minute mark, it hits me: he’s my other twin.
True, he’s taller than me, his hair and eyes are a different colour, and he's a couple years younger than I am.
Beside that, he’s like me. We have similar opinions, and ask a lot of questions (many of which we are sure we have the answer to, but are inevitably afraid of wanting to know the actual truth because it’s not what we want to know).
Then again, this could be a lot of wishful thinking on my behalf. Maybe he’s nothing like me, and I see myself in him as a way of projection. Or, maybe he thinks the same thing, and finds a lot of similarities between us.
When I write S an e-mail the next day, I tell him about our talk the day before.
In his response, he tells me he found me interesting. That’s the kiss of death. It’s almost as bad as having someone call me nice.
Maybe we’re not identical, after all.
Well, that and I'm smarter and cuter than he is.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
7 Comments:
This was such a nice post. And it was interesting.
Me thinks you need to find your evil twin!
Bwah-ha-ha-ha!!!
For some reason, knowing how you write your blog, I was expecting you to realize that you were talking to yourself in the reflection from the Starbuck window glass!
Despite the "nice" comment (brother! do I know that feeling!!!), I'd say go after him!
I'm 'S' could we be twins...:P
So what is next then? Another meeting of sorts? Do tell?
xox
you are so much more than interesting.
In England, if someone asks you if you like something and you reply, "It's quite nice," it's the same as saying, "I didn't care for it."
Is he from the UK?
You really are so much more than interesting and I must ask . . . Did you tell him about your newly discovered talent?
I should state that S and I are friends and he's a nice guy.
In his book, "interesting" is a good thing. In my book, it's not.
Then again, I also read the occasional Danielle Steel novel, so...
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