There’s a chance I’d be much less vain than I am now, knowing I shared my face with another human being on the planet. I’d probably be less self-important, and would probably care for him as much as I cared for myself.
I’d probably be more athletic, since he would probably have taken up a sport at one point or another and dragged me into it. He’d be a gym rat, turn me into one, and we’d both stroll down the mall looking like a million bucks apiece.
We’d share toys and and clothes and money and secrets and problems. If we were both adventurous and kinky and badass (and I just know he would be), we’d share lovers too.
We’d be so full of ourselves we might’ve actually joined the local Big Brother edition. Or started a Youtube channel full of vanity videos. Like this:
Damn those green eyes and pink cheeks.
Maybe we could’ve also been separated at birth by some cataclysmic event, and he’d find himself in London speaking like these adorable British boys. If I had a twin brother, I’d want him to be British!