There’s been some Facebook fun recently focused on celebrity doppelgangers. You know. That scary moment when people say, “Do people tell you that you look like…?” and you realize your ego is either going to take flight or send you into a downward spiral involving a diet, nose/boob/dye job and/or an emergency session with ice cream/your therapist.
For example, I’m delighted when people tell me I look like this pretty lady:
Not so happy with this one:
No, not Heigl. Wiig. Who is a perfectly lovely gal when she isn’t playing a snarky, jealous douchette. But on what had to be the mother of all bad dates, the dude told me (in all seriousness) that not only did I look like Wiig in Knocked Up, I have the same personality. (!!!)
Then he tells me that his dream is to live in Venice, as close the medical marijuana clinic as possible. (What’s so special about that one, by the way? This is LA. There’s one on every corner.) And good call on the first date confession, pal — because every woman wants a man whose loftiest ambition is to stay as lofty as possible.
Now I don’t want to say in what Hollywood juke-joint this horror story went down. But I will give you a hint:
But wait. It gets worse. Randomly, maybe because he was feeling vulnerable after his wakey bakey confession, he goes in to hug me and tries to grope some side-boob on the way. I shut him down. He tries again. Rejected, again. I see dudes around the bar watching and gleefully mouthing the word, “DENIED!”
He gets up to go to the bathroom saying, and I quote, “I’m really sorry for whatever happened that makes you so afraid to be touched, your emotional scars.” SERIOUSLY.
So let this be a lesson to us all, male and female: If you attempt to hug a person you barely know, and they push you away so hard you almost fall off your chair — it’s not that they don’t like hugging. It’s that they don’t like YOU. So move along, little doggie. Move along.