I feel a special kinship with anyone who wears glasses. And has dark hair. And is below-average height.
Let me backtrack a little bit. I wear glasses. I have dark brown hair. And I'm around five-foot-six. Obviously, I'm not the only person who fits this description.
Yet whenever I'm standing next to someone who bears a passing resemblance to myself -- i.e., someone who wears glasses, has dark hair and is short -- a stranger will inevitably stare at us momentarily and wonder, "Are they brothers?" And he really wants to know, too, because more often than not, he'll approach me and ask. He actually wants to know if a) I have a brother, and b) if that brother happens to be the guy standing next to me.
If the answer is yes to both, an approving smile will cross over his face and he'll brag, "I knew it." Well, congratulations, Encyclopedia Brown, you cracked the case. But 95 percent of the time, the answer to the second question is no, and the stranger is disappointed that his instincts were incorrect. But really, his instincts failed him earlier, when they told him he should bother me with his ridiculous question.