Mistaken Identity

I have been mistaken for many things and many people in my brief and long 32 years. Sometimes the things or people I am mistaken for can be viewed through the lens of self identify as innocuous. Sometimes the things or the people I am mistaken for can be seen as insulting. Rarely can the things or people I am mistaken for be described as great. I have yet to be mistaken for a male supermodel. You know the type that walks down runways in brightly light gymnasiums or theaters dressed in threads of all colors and varying sizes ranging from extra small to very small. I have yet to be mistaken for a great actor. You know the type that walks down red carpets with camera lights flashing from all directions with a self awareness ranging from not at all self-aware to not self-aware at all.

But here recently I have been mistaken for a particular person. To be mistaken for this person brings me no shame. In fact, this person is a bit younger and a whole lot richer than I am, so I can’t find any fault for being associated with this individual. This isn’t like the other times I’ve been mistaken for someone or something else. No sir. This isn’t like the time two officers pulled me over and approached my vehicle with guns drawn, because I just so happened to look similar to a, clearly, handsome individual who thought it his best life decision to commit some unlawful offense. What that offense was, I’ll never know. I guess the officers were too preoccupied keeping the sights of their force-issued handguns drawn on my person to properly inform me for why they were doing it.

Its also good that this case of mistaken identity isn’t like a childhood friend of mine. A classmate for most my years in elementary we bonded over being young and knowing how to do backflips. But really what else is there at that age? Well, unfortunately one day someone mistakenly identified him as an intruder and shot him. We were not even in high school yet.  The worst part was that his killer was his own family. I’m sure he wished he hadn’t misidentified his cousin either.

Most of the time, however, I am mistaken for just “someone else.” It actually happens with quite regularity. Mostly, it happens in the grocery store. I am on the breakfast cereal aisle searching for the store brand Raisin Bran and some nice lady or hurried man will tap me on the shoulder or gather my attention some other way. When I turn around they’ll always say,

I thought you were someone else.


You look like someone else. Sorry. 

No need to apologize, I’d like to meet this someone else. This someone else must be a great person since so many people are excited to see him.

Either that or he’s in a lot of debt.

If that’s the case, I don’t want to meet him.




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I'm a thirty year old man who likes Medicine For Melancholy.



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