I’m standing in lower Manhattan on the corner of Avenue A between 5th and 6th Streets. It’s just after 3 a.m. Dressed in white, my friends and I polished off one event and we’re hailing a cab to Brooklyn for the annual White Party. Scratch that. My friends are hailing a cab. I’m flirting with the handsome stranger standing next to me.
If you’ve read this site for a while, you know I have a type. Hair. Eyes. Skin. At least two out of three should be dark. Bonus points for accents. I’ve dated tons of Dudes of Different Ethnicities, but that 2 out of 3 attraction remains. Dark skin, dark hair, and light eyes like Michael Ealy? Fucking awesome. Dark eyes, dark hair, and light(ish) skin like the newly-legal Taylor Lautner? Delish. So, the dude on Avenue A? He’s a white guy from Brooklyn with pale skin, blondish hair and green eyes. But, oddly, the orgy of recessive traits actually works for this particular guy. He’s cute. He and I are standing next to each other chatting for a while when he starts brushing his fingers against mine, then he holds my hand while talking. I flirtatiously lift my long flowing skirt to reveal a bare leg toward the street. “No fair,” he says, “unfair advantage.” But, I’ve forgotten about hailing a cab. My friends have that covered anyway, and I’m singularly focused on this guy. The cutie. Then — I swear to god I can’t make this up — ANOTHER guy who’s equally cute and looks EXACTLY like the guy I’m flirting with walks up.
“Wow? Are you guys twins?” I ask.
“Yes,” they answer in unison.
I’ve never seen real, live, hot twin men. I’ve been partying / drinking for many many hours, so my next question is admittedly inappropriate, but it tumbles from my mouth anyway. “That’s amazing! Have you guys ever had a threesome?” They look a little stunned that I’ve asked, and they laugh. Seconds later, friends call out, “Twanna. Come on. We got one. Get in the cab.”
“But, you guuuuuuys.” I point to the duo. “They’re twiiiiins.”
Figuring it’s probably a bad idea to drunkenly abandon friends for two dudes I met only 10 minutes ago, I get in the cab with my pals. One of the twin boys — the one I originally flirted with and found incredibly adorable — runs up along the cab. He wants to come with us, so he asks if there’s room in the car. There isn’t. Cabbie says he’ll only take four. With that, we drive off. I never see him again.
For a week — A WHOLE FUCKING WEEK — I beat myself up like, “I should’ve just remained behind, talking to the twins.” Of course I didn’t feel any better when a guy friend who was out with us that night recently told me, “I saw that guy after you left! He was really into you. After you got in the cab, we were standing on the corner figuring out what to do next. I heard the twin boy really beating himself up saying, ‘Damn it! I should’ve asked for her number.’”
I’ve always had a twin fantasy. Two boys. Identically hot. Twice the attention. Who DOESN’T want that?? Not sure if I could actually go through with it, though. I’ve told a few people about the other week’s chance twin encounter, and they’re either like: “Twins!!!! That’s hot.” OR “Gross!!!! They’re brothers. That’s incest.” Honestly, if I was sober that night, I probably would’ve stayed behind with the twin boy. The first one; I really enjoyed flirting with him. Le sigh. Maybe the opportunity will present itself again under different circumstances. Curious to hear your thoughts. Do any of you have twin fantasies? Anyone out there ever hooked up with twins?
Image credit: “Twins” photo is by Danny Dickman. Yes, his last name is Dickman.