I miss the middle aged Mexican lady next to my old apartment that was UNCEASINGLY astonished by my resemblance to Russel Crowe.  Every day she saw me, for five years, she never stopped thinking I looked EXACTLY like Russel Crowe and her mind NEVER stopped being blown by it.  I would strategically time my front door exits with hers so that I could get another chance to shrug demurely and nod my head as a woman practically leapt up and down on the sidewalk pointing at me, saying “My GOD.  You look MORE like him now than before!  What’s his name?  The Gladiator?”

“Russel Crowe.”

“Russel Crowe!  Do you know how much you look like him?!”

“I…no, I’ve never really heard that before, but it’s flattering.”

“You look…Are you telling me nobody ever tells you that you look like Russel Crowe?”

“No.  I mean, you do, but I tend to get Fat Randy Quaid.”

“Okay, I don’t know who that is, but I know who Gladiator is.  You look like Gladiator.”

“Are you hitting on me?”

“Ha!”

“Just kidding.  Thank you.  I wish I did look like him -“

“-you DO.”

“I will accept it.  Because it’s rude to argue.  So thank you.  I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye.  There goes Russel Crowe everybody!”

“Hi, everyone, I’m Russel Crowe.”

“Ha!”

“Ha!”

And then I would go to a bar, pull up an image of Russel Crowe on my phone and look at it with a quiet smile.

Anyway, I miss that lady.  I mean, I don’t miss her as a human being, she was pretty irritating and constantly yelling at me for playing my TV above 2 decibels past 5pm.  I kind of hated her.

But I miss being told I looked like Russel Crowe.