I'm always amazed at people's reaction when they find out that I'm a twin.
I guess the thought of another completely hot, incredibly charming, suave piece of man-meat like me is too much for them to handle. They probably have trouble determining if the earths crust can support my ego, let alone another of the same size.
And then the questions come out.
"Does he look like you?" - No , he wishes, but God must have frowned on him while smiling on me. We look similar; you can tell we are brothers, but identical? Forget it.
"Who is older?" - That's not a bad one, (He is by three minutes.)
"Does he celebrate his birthday three minutes before you?" - What are you, retarded? What kind of question is that?
"It must have been cool growing up" - Yeah overall it was, but there are some downsides to sharing every moment of your life with someone. The same presents at Christmas, the identical T-Shirts, nobody thinking you'll mind sharing a room, competing for the same girls, (I won most of the time), Your family's inability to support two of you going into the same sport or field trip at times. (Missed out on China 'cause of that.)
The greatest thing about having a twin growing up can be summed up in two words: Instant Alibi. It didn't matter what it was, if I needed backup or cooberation, he was there. And I would do the same. As long as we stuck together and kept our stories straight, no court could convict us, and we'd get off free and clear.
It's strange on how this Mother's Day I'm writing about my brother, instead of Mom. But one way to look at it is this: I knew him before I knew her, so she just had the distinction of being our first apartment.