And You Are…?

It’s all my mothers fault.

I have an unfortunate affliction that causes me to fail miserably every time I attempt to be ‘cool’ and interesting at a social gathering. This horrible disease has no cure and I’m afraid that one day I’ll be as bad as my mentally addled mother.

You see, I can’t remember names.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t mean just the names of strangers I meet at a party and will never see again. No. I’m talking about the names of my extended family who I see at the GeekMan Family Gatherings once or twice a year. A typical conversation at one of those might sound like the following;

“GeekMan! It’s been too long. Why don’t you ever call me anymore?”

“Uh, hello?”

“GeekMan. Don’t you recognize me?”

“I’m sorry. The face is familiar but…?”

“I’m your mother, dammit! Your poor, ever-suffering mother!”

This is usually followed by a stinging slap and my banishment to the children’s table for the rest of dinner.

I can honestly blame this mental deficiency on my mother, who never, ever remembers my name. Whenever she’s introducing me to her friends it always goes something like this;

“Friend, this is my son, Fishman. Fishman, this is Friend.”

“Uh, mom. I’m not Fishman, I’m the older one.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Friend. This is Husband. No wait, Dog1. Dog2. GeekMan! Yes, that’s it. Friend, this is GeekMan.”

“I’m your son, dammit! Your poor, ever-suffering son!”

This is usually followed by a stinging slap and my banishment to the children’s table for the rest of dinner.

So, should you ever have the misfortune of meeting me and wonder why I don’t ever refer to you by your name, now you know. And, unless we meet in a very small group, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll remember who you are the next time we meet.

What? Oh, because I’m a fricken moron, that’s why.