the name game

I’m bad with names. I admit it. But my badness is not due to a faulty memory. On the contrary, as I have an excellent time remembering things that interest me. And that’s the key. Interest. If you don’t interest me, I don’t remember your name, because I don’t care. Why should I take up valuable brain real estate with your name when I could use it for important facts like who did the original version of Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now?” (Tommy James & the Shondelles)

However, if you really make an impression, either good or bad, I will remember your name. Maybe I meet you and you are really smart or fun. I will note your name for future use. Or, maybe I meet you and you are the worst person I’ve ever met; you say racist, sexist, idiotic things and I come very close to whipping out the old frying pan. I will note your name for future avoidance.

Most people do not fit into these categories, so their names are said and then immediately pushed out of my brain. If I know I’m never going to meet you again, I won’t bother with your name. If you just that aren’t that exciting, I will be disinterested, perhaps feigning a yawn while you say y our name. If you prove yourself worthy, you might hear me ask you to repeat your name. That’s a good sign because it means you’ve piqued my interest. Also, if we keep meeting, I will admit that I should learn your name, and take that small step.

But what to do if I remember your name but you don’t remember mine? I hold everyone to the same standards I have for myself. This means that if you don’t remember my 3 little letters, I didn’t make an impression on you, even if we’ve met several times. This puts a little stab in the meat of my self esteem. I’m not used to being forgotten, to be totally conceited about it. I once dropped a class after a week in college, and then the teacher said “hello des” as he passed in a hallway at the end of the year, 9 months later.*
So if you don’t recall my name after a week, I’m a little hurt. Not to mention the social awkwardness of the situation when I say “Hi Bob!” and you say “Hey….you?” I can only think of so many creative ways to work my name into a conversation to save you the embarrassment of asking.

I do remember faces. That’s a curse. 10 years from now (if you look the same for the most part) I’ll have a vague recollection of meeting you before, even if I don’t remember the circumstances. If I didn’t bother with your name the first time, it will give me that much more trouble placing you. What I said about “never meeting you again” and all that. But maybe you’re different now, so it’s a clean slate for the name thing.

So take note, you. My name is des. D-E-S. Pronounced dehz, rhyming with fez or pez. When we meet, tell me your name. If you are reading this blog, chances are I know your name already AND find you interesting (because I probably read your blog). Attaching your name to your face will only seal the deal.

Love,
des



* I dropped the class because the teacher was creepy, and his remembering my name just added to the creepiness, but it proves my point.