"I haven't seen you in so long!"
"Where are you working now?"
"Paul, you remember my girlfriend Rose."
I don't. Rose wants to shake hands. There's a certain way you're supposed to shake hands with a woman but I don't know it.
"I can't believe how much you and Andrew still look the same!"
This happens all the time. People are constantly surprised to find that you look like your twin brother. They can't not mention that you look like your identical twin. Maybe I'm surprised too. I feel hollowed out. Worn out. Ground down. I should be much smaller by now.
"When are you getting married Paul?" they ask. As if setting the date will make a girl in a dress turn up. As if planning a wedding is some new cure for being gay.
The music stops. Sit down.
After the right amounts of words are spoken, a bride and Andrew ooze up the aisle. Everybody nearly twists their head off to look backwards as they come in the door. It looks painful, so I just look straight ahead. My punishment is staring into a sea of bulging eyes - ready to pop. That's how hard everyone's trying to twist their own head off just to see.
The wedding dress can't hide the woman she is. Big tits. Big waist. Big arse. When we were teenagers, Andrew would collect magazines filled with pictures of curvy girls like this. He'd pore over them. "Wouldn't you love to have a go at that?" he'd say. I wouldn't. I preferred the pictures of glistening, slender torsos of tribesmen I found splashed across the pages of National Geographic. I'd lay awake at night planning safari holidays in Zaire while Andrew whacked off with big girls in the top bunk.
Three scotch and cokes into the reception I'm feeling okay. Five scotches and I'm happy for Andrew. I'm kissing his fat wife on the cheek. It was a beautiful wedding. Welcome to the family. She's so happy a tear leaks out.
Much later, I've lost count of drinks. Everyone's slow-dancing. I can't dance. My sister Tabitha leads.
"It's been a fucking long day.."
She's just like me.
On the other side of the room, the bride and groom dance like they're underwater. The beat makes them ripple. The bride catches sight of us, and throws me a sly wink over her shoulder. I watch as it rolls down her big, curvy butt and gets lost among the shadows at her feet.
Tabitha smiles knowingly. "What's it like being an identical twin?", she teases.
"We're not identical.