My Doppelganger Drives a Mercedes

Last year, I found my doppelganger.

On a lark, I had typed my not-exactly-common name into the search box on Facebook. I was curious to see if there were other Mark Petruskas out there in the world, and if so, what they were like. To my surprise, there were several of us. Enough, as a matter of fact, to comprise the starting lineup of an NBA team. Granted, we would probably suck if the other Mark Petruskas are anything like me. I wasn’t exactly blessed with the tallness gene and about the only thing I can slam dunk is coffee, but that isn’t really the point. I was rather surprised that there were so many of us out there, having always figured I had a unique name and was, therefore, one of a kind. My bubble that day was burst.

Curiosity quickly overcame any lingering animosity over the fact that I was merely another John Smith, and I decided to send a friend request to the Mark Petruska who appeared to be the most like me. He is a year or two younger, married, has two kids – a boy and a girl – and lives in Connecticut. He’s a liberal who was fervently pushing the passage of Obama’s health care plan, even. Granted, he’s a Steelers fan, but nobody is perfect. I included a personal message that said simply Why not? and was thrilled when he accepted my request that same day. Suddenly, I was friends with myself. How cool!

Commenting back and forth was fun. Some of our friends were understandably confused, thinking we were adding comments to our own posts. Hell, I was confused sometimes when I’d log in, find a status update from myself, and not remember posting it. Especially when it talked about doing something with the wife (I don’t have one) or the job (again, don’t have one). My heart would race, and I’d panic momentarily, wondering how much alcohol I had consumed the previous evening, before I realized the update came from Mark Petruska v. 2.0 and not me. Whew! The funny thing is, over the past year and a half, he and I have sort of become real friends. We follow each other’s updates, look at posted photos, comment on important life events. If I were in town and he was hosting a barbecue, I’m sure he’d extend an invitation to me. And the steak would be damn good, too. He is a Mark Petruska, after all. I have long ago gotten over the fact that he’s probably the bastard who stole the gmail address I coveted.

There’s just one thing I didn’t bargain for. His life is far more glamorous than mine.

My first inkling of this came a year ago, when he posted pictures of his shiny, gleaming, brand new silver Mercedes Benz E350. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with my Santa Fe. But it is almost ten years old, has 107,000 miles on the odometer, is pockmarked with hail damage, and is…despite its dependability…still a Hyundai. Nobody talks about fine Korean engineering (though in all fairness, those Germans can’t make kimchee worth crap). Did I mention that his wife looks like a freakin’ supermodel? I’m happily in love now, but at the time my personal life was hell, and this just seemed like one more stab in the eye. I searched for possible chinks in their marital armor – surely nobody’s life could be that perfect, even with such an awesome name – but between all their sweet-and-sassy back-and-forth Facebook chatter and the numerous photos of their happy, smiling nuclear family – could find none. They were, naturally, living the American Dream.

A week ago he posted, {Wife} surprised me and planned a weekend in New York City. Just finished lunch and now shopping. 

Shut up.

And then, yesterday. On the plane to Aruba. Can’t wait to hit the beach!!!

Really, Mark? Really?!?!

I suggested we switch lives for a few days, but I don’t expect a response. He’s no doubt too busy frolicking in the sand and surf and enjoying some rum-based beverage complete with a slice of pineapple impaled by a plastic sword and a tiny folding paper umbrella sticking out of the top. Is it wrong of me to hope he comes back with a bad sunburn? Homeboy is showing me up something fierce.

I kid, of course. I like the guy, and I’m glad somebody as deserving as a Mark Petruska is living such an awesome life.

And the truth is, as we head into Thanksgiving week, I am in a very good place myself. I’ve never been happier, and have much to be thankful for. This has been a year to remember – one for the ages – and I feel incredibly fortunate. Honestly, I wouldn’t switch places with the other Mark Petruska even if I could. As great as his life is, I know that mine is better.

I’d still take the keys to that Mercedes, though…