Do you have a brother?

Why do we do it? We meet someone fabulous, the "perfect" spouse of a friend, and ask the question, "Do you have a brother (or sister)?" when what we really mean is, "Do you have a clone?" I am the sister of a saint. Her husband's single, male friends ask if I exist. When they say I do, these men start lobbying for a meeting. I am nothing like my sister. OK, maybe a little like her, but not in the ways they hope.
I agreed to one of these meetings this weekend. It went surprisingly well, but he doesn't know me yet.