I Have an Embarassing Secret

I have an embarrassing secret to reveal:

I don’t know your name.

Even though we’ve been introduced more than once, and our children are in the same class, I just can’t retain it. And I feel lousy about it.

I’ve never been very good about remembering names, and now that the circles of life are getting larger and more populated, it’s definitely getting harder. Coupled with the fast-paced, hither-and-yon quality of life we’re leading these days, it’s no wonder I’m not alone in the struggle.

What prompted this admission was  I wrote earlier this week for Wilton Patch, about smartphone apps I fantasized about creating in order to make life easier. A reader, Brian Kesselman (a new friend whose name I will now always remember!) had a great idea for an app to help you remember names of acquaintances that are just out of reach. If it were technologically possible, something tells me it would be a bestseller (notwithstanding privacy and etiquette issues—can you imagine trying to snap an iPhone picture and saying, “Hold on, just waiting for my name recognition software to kick in and tell me your name.”)

There are the parents of children’s friends, classmates and teammates (from this year and before); friends of friends of friends you meet out and about; members at your church or synagogue; people you see regularly at an exercise class; new clients or officemates; spouses of all these people; the Starbucks barista who remembers your usual each morning; the mail carrier and garbage guy; each a person you’d like to be able to greet by first name.

The fluster of embarrassment makes it worse as the moment approaches. Bumping into someone at a movie theatre, you can play out that moment of needing to introduce my husband to a woman I’ve seen at monthly PTA meetings and it becomes painfully obvious that her name escapes me. Something tells me there’s no way to pass it off like it’s my husband’s name that has slipped my mind and that’s why I’m not making introductions.

I dated a guy in college who was well known in his circle of friends as a social butterfly. His secret shame at not remembering anyone’s name was masked by a booming, “Hello, Sir!” each time he greeted someone whose name he ought to have known. I could tell how badly he was panicking by how loud the generic greeting was.

I know politeness dictates that I should swallow my pride and admit to not remembering someone’s name. What do you think of this as an opening line? “Please forgive me, I was up late last night after helping my kids with their homework, and finishing a column after spending a day in meetings and then driving my kids to various activities, and neglecting the laundry and dishes (again), and I know we’ve met umpteen times, but my brain is Swiss cheese these days—and I’ve forgotten your name.”

Politicians often have an aide de camp at their side to whisper a donor or constituent’s name. They always make it look so effortless and personal. They’ve got the charming thing down to a science, but since I’m  as finding the political substance lacking in Washington these days, I doubt that’s a solution for my problem.

Unless I look to my husband for help if he happens to be with me when a brain-lapse moment occurs. But given how I’m prone to mixing up his name with that of the kids or my parents or the dog (when we had one), it seems I’m failing on the name game at home as well.

So please forgive me if I blank on a name, or if I stumble on an introduction. I’m sure not everyone remembers my name all the time either. In fact, if you ever introduce me to someone else and you call me “Heidi,” I promise to understand.

About this column: Trying to find meaning and connections in issues and events for the people of lower Fairfield County.