Have You Seen This Man...

I’m one of those people that everyone thinks they’ve met before. Either that or I really remind them of someone. So I’m not sure whether I just have a generic face, or whether I have such a unique face that people assume that they must have met me before. Personally, I think I’m unique, and I don’t mean that in a conceited way, more like, you know, I’m kinda weird lookin. I’m a big, tall, bearded, long-haired guy: I stand out in a crowd. So, I agree, if someone has met me before, they’re bound to remember me (which is irritating, because I probably don’t remember them).

But generally, people have very limited imaginations when it comes to the "You look just like…" game. I think that at one point or another, I’ve been compared to every famous person with long hair. When my hair was growing out, people used to tell me that I looked like Jason Bateman. I didn’t see it. I was no Teen Wolf too. Then as my hair reached lengthy status, I generally got a progression of longhaired rock stars. I used to get Anthony Keidis from the Red Hot Chili Peppers now and then, but usually only from drunk observers. I don’t think I resemble him at all, in fact, as I generally wear clothes, with my socks primarily on my feet. I agree that I did legitimately resemble the lead singer of the Canadian Celtic rock band, Great Big Sea. But it’s not exactly a resemblance that you can exploit. Hey, are you that guy from that band no one’s heard of? Yeah, that’s me… got any free stuff? I gradually resigned myself to being associated with anyone with long hair, even shorthaired actors in longhaired roles. I even get compared to one of the chefs on the cooking channel. Often I would yearn for someone to say I reminded them of someone with short hair, you know, to wrap myself in the belief that I was more than just my hair (lustrous though it may be). But no, everytime, it’s the same thing… Hey… You look like the guy from that show… with the hair… you know, that show with the guy…

But then, I started to notice a disturbing trend. My popular doppelgangers started shifting out of the range of comparisons I felt comfortable with. Until finally the day arrived when a patron of one of my bars said, "Hey, you remind me of that singer." I smiled patiently as I reached for his beer, but my smile faded as he continued, "Yeah, you know, Meatloaf."

That night I stood before the mirror for a long time. Meatloaf. A singer who had named himself after dry, leftover casserole. I don’t think it was until exactly that moment that I realized that through years of static academic study followed by a few years of eating food everyday from my restaurants, that I had indeed let myself go. This was pretty far from paradise, dashboard lights notwithstanding. So I resolved to lose some weight. That summer I grew a beard as I drove home across Canada, so that when I arrived, I started to get compared to director Kevin Smith. Long hair and a beard. I’m telling you, people’s imaginations don’t stretch very far. But although Silent Bob was still a hefty character, he was a damn site cooler than Meatloaf.

The Kevin Smith comparisons continued once I arrived in Pakistan. In fact, there’s still one guy here who insists on introducing me to everyone as Kevin. (I threw together a quick story that after Jersey Girl I wanted to take a low profile, so I moved to a third world country, but I don’t think many people bought it.) Then one night a girl said, "Hey you kinda look like Kevin Smith, just without the weight problem." I think I startled her when I hugged her and said, "God Bless you."

And these days, things are looking up. Nowadays, the comparison everyone comes up with is Bo Bice from American Idol. Long hair and a beard… good call. But I’m satisfied, after the Meatloaf scare of 2003, I’m finally back to acceptable rock star territory.

But I wonder, if I ever actually cut my hair, will I look like anyone at all? Maybe then I can actually look like me. Frightening.