They’ve been called brothers before, and there was that time at Publix when a stranger called them twins, which Smith says is a real stretch. In terms of the couple’s similar physical appearances, sure, they both have full, brownish, close-to-the-face beards slender builds (though Steve, at 5 feet 4, is a few inches shorter than Ben) and their hair, also brown, is styled in a classic college cut. (Which, as a thing to do, sounds fantastically convenient, but as a thing to seriously think and want? My friends, my therapist, and Dave Franco would have strong opinions about that.) Not seeing what they were seeing (at first), I was genuinely spooked that I was signing up for a lifetime of people thinking I liked to fuck myself. Later, one friend saw a snap of Trevor on a cruise ship in a pose like one he'd seen me in before, texted me, and joked that he thought I’d gone on vacation. Our similar gym-worked builds were not lost on them either neither were our round, clear-framed specs. Boyfriend twins! Doppelbangers! Or so they suggested.Īmused, they pointed to my former mustache, then to the one he currently has. As they cracked up, I could feel their critique coming, but I wasn't prepared to feel as embarrassed by it as I was. They’d look down at a photo, then back at me. My phone was making the post-dinner rounds and the New Man Approval Committee was hard at work, my most observant gay friends combing a selection of Insta pics featuring the suitor in question, Trevor. “So, you’re fucking yourself,” my friends announced playfully, to my cringing dismay.
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