It occurs only in dimly lit bars. Young women mistake me for Ryan Gosling. Sometimes I go along. Talk about my work, the famous people I know. I get a bunch of phone numbers that way. But I feel too guilty to follow up. It's probably illegal anyway.
Strangely, in the daytime no one makes that mistake. In fact, I'm often mistaken for Yogi Berra, circa 1990. I even adapt his slumped posture. I suppose it's the ears, though I don't want to think too hard about it.
I wonder if Gosling ever gets mistaken for me. We both wear bomber jackets and baseball caps.
Another awkward moment occurs when you've finished a blog and realize it's nothing but gibberish. One must only hope other bloggers are posting even more stupid things. Then we can all be awkward together and perhaps have a group hug where people put their hands in awkward places.
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