I’m an identical twin so I know. Here goes.
What’s it like being twins? What’s it like being a singleton?
Which one of you is the leader? We’re not a company. Or a cult. Or whatever.
Oh my god! You look EXACTLY the same!! No, we actually really don’t.
Hey twinny! That’s not my name.
I wish I was one of twins, it must be such fun. You’d think.
You’re lucky cos you’ve always got a best friend. Meh.
How on earth do people tell you apart? They get to know us.
Do you fancy the same boys? Probably to the same extent as any other two random people do.
I bet you get mistaken for each other all the time! Yes.
Do you think the same thoughts? No, we’re not the same person.
You’re obviously the confident one! Suddenly lost that confidence.
Do you ever look in the mirror and think you’re your sister? Don’t be ridiculous.
Do you always know what the other one is thinking? ‘The other one’??
Do you ever go out with the same boy? Really prefer not to talk about that.
But I don’t want you to think that I’m in any way over-sensitive or I haven’t got a sense of humour. I’ll be the first to say ‘We were womb mates,’ and my sister and I wrung every bit of fun and games out of being twins when we were younger. But you singletons, can you ever imagine what it’s really like to try and carve out your own identity in a world that sees you as one half of a whole?
Being treated like you were a normal individual human being would really help on that one, especially for children.
I’m grown up now, and sure enough of my own identity to take the jokes. And on that note, I’ll leave the last word to my eldest son. Not too long ago, there was a knock on the door heralding a visit from my twin sister who my son hadn’t known was visiting. He opened the door and looked momentarily taken aback and confused.
‘Can’t I come in?’ said my sister cheerfully, ‘weren’t you expecting me?’
‘Oh! Oh yes, sorry’ said my son, recovering himself, and he jerked his head towards me.
‘It’s just that we’ve already got one.’