I have this awful quality, besides my insane love of caftans.  I have a really hard time remembering names.  In a psych class in college, I was introduced to a girl who sat behind me in class.  When I graciously said, “Nice to meet you.”  She responded by saying, “Yeah, we’ve met before.  Twice.”  Great.  Not only am I bad at names, but now I’m also bad at remembering faces.

I think it really has more to do with my soft focusing abilities.  I’m so good at soft focusing that when people introduce themselves, I immediately forget their name.  I’m not proud of this.  It stirs deep embarrassment because at some point I’m going to have to ask the person their name.  Usually that point is probably after we’ve interacted for at least 6 months.  I’m ashamed to admit it.  Ashamed because it reveals my faulty side.  It’s one thing to admit that I love caftans, it’s a whole other thing to admit I can’t remember the names of people even when I’m time told several times.

The best part is that both my husband and I are bad with names.  I can’t even count the times we’ve been introduced to someone only to walk away without a name.  As we’re walking away I turn to my husband in hopes that he will come to the rescue.  “What were their names again?”  Only to be met with the same response every time, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”  Great.

This past Saturday, my daughter was invited for a play date after ballet class.  Awesome.  Oh wait, I don’t have the mom’s phone number.  Even better, I can’t remember the mom’s name.  What am I supposed to say?  “Hi such and such’s mom, can I get your phone number?  What’s that?  Why don’t I know your name?  Weird, right?  I know that we’ve talked about you house hunting, and that you’re even looking in my neighborhood.  It’s weird that I would know so much about you and yet be unable to recall your name.”  How can I ask her this question?  We’ve interacted too many times to for me to now admit that I don’t know her name.

Then a brilliant idea strikes, maybe Lola remembers her name.  So of course I ask her.  Sadly, she didn’t know her name.  Thinking that this was a game, Lola asks if I know her name.  To which of course I say no.  Great.  I think I may have just created a problem.  When my husband and I arrive at the house, we of course proceed as any normal human being that has an aversion to asking a person’s name, we  try to catch a glimpse of the mail or the name on the newspaper.  We would rather go to great lengths to figure out a name instead of just admitting the truth.  Yes, we are desperate and insane people.

The following day, my daughter informs us of the mom’s name.  I don’t think I’ll be forgetting that any time soon.  Of course in that same instant, I couldn’t help but wonder how she came across that information.  I can only imagine how that conversation went.  I really should just admit my faults.  I’m not sure which is more embarrassing that  I have interacted with this mom over the past 6 months and didn’t know her name or that my daughter had to find out her name for me.