Am I the evil twin?

When I was a kid, I would stare in the mirror until I scared the hell out of myself. I was convinced that someone was staring back at me. I would go into a transfixed trance for an hour until the transparent wall became invisible. And then there he was, smiling, the other me. I swear one time he moved. But when I got too afraid, I’d turn away from the mirror and looked back and he was gone. The wall would appear again. I questioned which was the real me? I always felt there something underneath my flesh that needed release. Was I trapped behind that wall--a casually unexamined reflection that secured vanity or that lazy zombie brushing his teeth, washing his face, fixing his hair, or was there something more?

For Curtis Jackson it's 50 cents. For Beyonce it’s Sasha. For Madonna it’s Madge. For Cordozar Broadus it’s Snoop Doggy Dog. It’s the alter-ego. In Latin it’s defined as "the other I." The alter-ego was created in the early 1800's when people first discovered schizophrenia.

Sunday morning before church, I was bored so I decided to check my messages on some of the sex sites I cruised. The first message read, “Tryna fuck u on yo back in that red thong yo.” I looked at my picture in my profile, the first pic, I’m naked, a dogtag engraved “Porno Star” hung from neck, my legs were opened seductively and my red thong caught in my teeth. I laughed. I looked at my second picture and it was an ass shot with milk pouring down my back. The second message read, “You giving up ass!” Sober and in florescent lighting, the messages seemed so direct and disrespectful. It was a Sunday, God’s day, I felt conflicted because the Devil was calling. I worked a full time job. I had college degrees. I gave to charity. I was more than some ass and a quick nutt. I was a little offended. I was also turned on. I quickly remembered when I took those pictures my intentions was advertising for fast lust. I looked at the rest of my pictures and it didn’t even register it was me bent over a kitchen chair with my finger in my ass and a naughty grin. It wasn't me in those pictures, that was Sean.

The most famous case for duality is The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde a book written by the Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson in late 1800s. It was based on the premise that every man has two aspects within him – good and evil – which constantly wage war upon him. Dr. Jekyll acting on the theory that it was possible to polarize and separate those two aspects created a potion that could change a man into an embodiment of his evil side, Mr. Hyde -- thereby also making pure his good side leaving his evil to indulge in all the forbidden pleasures that he would never commit otherwise. In the end, the alter-ego wanted its own life. It couldn’t be controlled. It overdosed on the portion and committed murder. Dr. Jekyll lost his internal war having to deal with consequences of Mr. Hyde because good and evil shared the same body which meant their fates were the same. Dr. Jekyll committed suicide to escape punishment.

Why the separation? We live in a culture of extreme polarization. Our politicians must be clean-cut but yet politics is a very dirty game. Men say they want a "ho" in the bedroom but a wife in the streets. Which is the real truth? Can a mother of three behind close doors also like for her husband to piss in her face and call her a dirty bitch? Does that not make her a good mother? It’s the pressure of extreme purity that causes the good to seek impurity. It’s human nature. We’re shocked when the President was caught cheating with an intern and then lies about it like a typical man. Rev. Ted Haggard after being caught with a male prostitute goes to rehab and suddenly claims he is completely heterosexual. Miss America apparently likes to drunk and a drug abuser like most twenty year olds. Why does she have to apologize? We lie to our kids. Role models are just a fictitious as Santa Clause and the Tooth fairy. All heroes eventually fail us. It’s how we deal with out internal war of perfection vs. destruction that determines our humanity.

When I first came out I didn’t fit in. I didn’t drink. I only had sex with one man. My first big gay event was at a beach. I wore overalls, sandals, a t-shirt and long button up shirt with a baseball cap and sunglasses. I didn’t get any attention. I so desperately wanted to fit in. I wanted to look like the poster gay boys and magazine covers. They always looked like they were having fun with their chiseled bodies. Five years later when I return as Sean I wore a Speedo and sandals.


I grew up the good kid. I hated it. I got teased a lot. I brought the shiny apple to school. I never complained about chores and homework. I aimed to please. Yet, being so damn good became too much pressure. If I cursed, people looked shocked. If they saw me at a party with a cup in my hand they immediately wanted to know what I was drinking. It seemed to be there were always those trying to corrupt me, get me to smoke the marijuana and when I declined, called me a loser. And then there were those invested in my purity, if they saw me smoking a cigarette would shake their heads in disgust and tell me I was a good kid like I owed them money. I didn’t always want to be a damn example. I wanted to be bad. I wanted to have fun. I got over approval in college.

After church and Sunday dinner and a couple of cocktails, I found myself alone again at my computer. I had a message from a guy who claimed that he liked to get high and fuck like alley dogs. He said he had a friend and they wanted to come over and do what boys do. I asked him for a face picture because it’s routine. He sent several pics of his dick and ass and one pic of his face. He was “fuckable” cute. I sent him several pics of my dick and ass and one pic of my face. He said that I was cute. He told me his name was Derrick. I gave him my phone number and address. I told him my name was Sean. I immediately took off my Sunday church clothes and looked for my red thong.

Who is Sean? First, it’s not my real name. He’s my alter-ego. I came up with him when I decided to come out at fifteen years. It was the name on my fake identification. I didn’t want anyone knowing my real name just in case what I did on the weekends got back to my family. I wasn’t out yet. I kept the alias in college. I kept the i.d. until I was 21. I never went back to my real name.

Why the separation? I guess like Dr. Jekyll I wanted to keep my good pure. If I was on my knees at the bathhouse I didn’t want the guy calling me by my birth name. My mother used that name. My lover used that name. My friends used that name. It wasn’t sexy.

Sean became my alter-ego. He did everything I was afraid to do. He drank. He smoked. He cursed. He got into bar fights. He had a very kinky side. He dressed up in leather. He went to sex parties. Like Dr. Jekyll it took chemistry to get to my Mr. Hyde. I couldn’t be Sean, sober. After many years of abuse, I found that I didn’t need the potion to become Sean. I would go to bed and still wake up Sean. After many years of abuse of my alter-ego, he wasn’t so easy to turn on and turn off. He started to mentally materialize. I couldn’t separate the duality. I started to feel as if I was losing my birth identity. Sean started having his own mind. He didn’t want to be controlled. I started having two distinctive personalities. It scared me because Sean only knew destruction and we shared the same body. I paid for all his bad decisions and consequences. When I tried to be Sean sober it didn’t work. I couldn’t do the things he did. I wasn’t so free.

I decided to get sober. I was going to give up Sean and not drink the potion. It wasn’t so easy. I was addicted. It turned out that I didn’t like my real self, that’s why I created Sean. I needed him.

The two guys arrived at my apartment that Sunday night. We got high and had very kinky sex. Afterwards, I realized it was almost two in the morning and I had to be a work at eight. Sean didn’t want to go to sleep. He wanted more sex. He wanted more liquor. We argued in my head. Sean knew if he continued drinking he’d drown me out. I decide to pour the last bottle of rum out. Sean screamed in my head. He slapped me. I slapped him back. I found myself in the mirror slapping myself. I won that battle.

I had to get control of Sean. He was taking over my life. My alter-ego was just a child. It wanted what it wanted, no matter the consequences. I couldn’t destroy him as easily as I created him. I had made him real. Others knew him. They thought they knew me but that was Sean. We just shared the same body. He was like my evil twin.

I also didn’t want my fate to end up the same as Dr. Jekyll committing suicide. I’d thought about it. I couldn’t just seem to control the monster I created. I knew he was going to land me in jail, murdered or even worse, accidentally murdering someone.

It’s said everyman’s internal war is his salvation or damnation. I created Sean out of the hatred of myself. I needed a way to escape. I fantasized him. I gave him so much power. I gave him my life. I don’t want to die Sean. I wanted to die my birth name.

It sounded crazy I knew, but I was going to have to find a way to outlive Sean. He was also plotting against me.