This is a confession of a personal struggle. A little Groot sitting on my shoulder. And the best way to get rid of this horny devil would be to call him out for what he is…Everything but a horny devil.
I’m about to reveal a deep, dark, dirty secret that has been lurking in my soul for decades but is actually not a secret at all. The more I think about, the more I know this post is going to turn out like my wedding night, just a highly disappointing reveal. Maybe it’s more accurate to say that I’m finally accepting a flaw that most people in my circle of trust are very much aware of. And I’m not referring to my nose for that also needs some work.
This is like getting out of a closet when nobody actually thought I was hiding in one.
Here goes… *takes deep breath and prepare for the big reveal*
I suck at names.
No, that’s wrong. It would be more accurate to say that the filing cabinet in your brain, where normal people store the names of people they meet in life, doesn’t exist in my brain. I have no space left for human names as that space is currently occupied by more important things, i.e the names of Superheroes and the chronological order of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
It would have been a lot easier if parents simply choose the names of their kids based on their appearance at birth. Like Pinky or Wrinkles or Banshee or Mongril. And don’t get me started on those condescending, pompous, “creative” names some people like to burden their kids with. Names that could only be defined as letters thrown together under the influence of crack, weed and heroine.
My issue is not limited to an inability of remembering the names of people I encounter because if that was so, it would be a very typical problem for most men. A much bigger concern is the fact that when I do meet a person whom I’ve met before, I will simply assign them a name. From my lack of memory. It would be something that I think would suit them. It might even start with the same letter as their actual name. Or it probably will not. And I wouldn’t be subtle about their newly assigned name because then it wouldn’t be me. I’ll approach the person with so much confidence that they would either (1) Assume I’m talking to someone behind them and completely ignore me or (2) Assume that the name written on their birth certificates are incorrect.
I’m fine when the Wife is at my side because she would provide me with the correct name of the person and I don’t end up looking like a jerk. The embarrassing situations occur when I’m on my own.
One would think that I must have learned my lesson by now. But one would be very wrong. What can I say, I’m a work in progress. I pledge that from this moment on I will stop assuming the name of the person I meet. And simply call them friend. Or Pinky. Or Mongril.
Besides I don’t think I’m as bad with names as some people might think. I get the names of my kids right at least 60% of the time…