A Word About Rachels…

rachels

When most people meet me (read: most intoxicated, gay men between 19-30 years old) they usually stare at me for a really long time and then say “You look like… Rachel… Rachel…Bilson! It’s your brown eyes. Your brown eyes make you look like Rachel Bilson. Brown. Eye.” 

Somewhere in the kurfuffle I lose an eye. I guess I can live with that, it’s usually late at night or whatever.

During this exchange I usually know what is coming and I try to stem it in a different direction. While the person is hunting for the lost surname of my Rachel benamed “twin” I try to suggest someone I find more flattering, glamorous and classy: Rachel Weisz.

Usually when I suggest this I get a wrinkled nose and a “Oh, NO! That’s all wrong!” sort of response.

Sigh. 

For goodness’ sake, the woman is married to Daniel Craig! She’s literally LIVING my dream life and you want to stick me with Rachel Bilson? 

No.

Absolutely not.

Usually I lose the argument, since there is no competing with my brown eye, just the one, mind you. My other brown eye isn’t quite up to snuff.

I don’t know what it is about Rachels. Most people, when they meet me, assume my name is Rachel. Or Laura, but since I’m not writing about Laura’s, that is totally irrelevant. And before you ask, no, I don’t stick out my hand and say “Hi, I’m Erin.” and they say “What? Rachel?”; rather, I like to play the “what name do you think I look like?” game*, and Rachel is always a top 3 answer.

Nothing against Rachels or their names, but I’m not a fan… Call me Laura. Rather, don’t. Laura isn’t much better. Sorry, Lauras and Rachels of the world. I’m just a Eugenia kind of person.

This is the most pointless digression, if you read it, you deserve a trophy.

*Yeah, I know, I’m a full blown loser.

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