David Duchovony's Twin

 
I first met him one night when our church youth group went to serve mealy to the homeless in Minneapolis. He was a volunteer.

I met him again three or four years later while at Cafe Weird. We were sitting next to each other, and I recognized his white gray hair and David Duchovony looks. I flirted.

He said hello and flirted back. I lied about my age, and we left the cafe for a walk around Lake Harriet.

It was a warm fall night --  one with no moon and full of stars, one where all the bugs are out. We ended up at his home. He told me stories of sobriety and twelve steps, of choices made and regrets he had. I listened wanting him more and more as the stories continued. He led me to his bedroom and we fucked. I was in heaven.

We had a few more encounters after that evening, each as divine as the one before. I was falling in love, and I had to tell the truth about my age.

"I'm 20," I blurted out one evening. He looked at me and responded, "I have to go."

Two weeks or so later, he called and asked to come over. I made a candle-lit dinner and shooed away my roommates.

"This can't continue," he said. "I thought you were older. This isn't going to work."

I was devastated. I was sure he was the one. "No," he said. "I am not the one. You have a much bigger life ahead of you, and I will not be responsible for limiting that."

He may have been right, but he was wrong in one way. He was the one: the one that helped me see my possibilities. I left Minnesota the following fall and haven't moved back since.

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