|Which one was he again?|
"So, tell me! What ever happened to that guy you were seeing?" my friend Katie asked, reaching for a celery stick off a half-eaten veggie platter. I hadn't seen her since last fall so she wanted to hear all about what I've been up to since then. We were making small talk in a brightly lit kitchen during a low-key house party. Music thumped in the background. I was drinking a beer but I didn't even have a decent buzz yet.
"Which one?" I asked.
"What do you mean 'which one'?" She cocked her head to the side.
"I mean, which guy?"
"The finance guy! You told me all about him last time I saw you."
"The finance guy?" I was genuinely perplexed.
"Yes! The one who took you to that fancy dinner then to a Phillies game."
"I went to a Phillies game? What are you talking about?"
Katie started to lose it at this point. She put the celery stick down. "That last time I saw you, you told me how you went out with this guy who took you out for a fancy dinner. You told me that he had some kind of cell phone that you can't even get in America."
"No way! What else did I say about him?" I was amused.
"You were telling me all about how he gave a dog CPR once. And how he makes his own pickles. He wants to open a pickle business on the side. Ring any bells?"
"OH! That guy! Yeah, it's all coming back to me. Right, right. I'm totally blanking on his name. Shit. I think it begins with a 'B.' Brian? No. Br....ad? Was it Brad?"Nothing makes me feel more single than when I run into someone I haven't seen in a while and they ask about a guy I dated over six months ago and I have no clue who the hell they're talking about. She's been with the same guy for like, eight years. She knows everything about him. She knows what his farts smells like and how he hates tiny corn on the cobs and how he refuses to watch anything that Jennifer Aniston stars in.
I, however, have been single for freakin' ever. I'm always single. I go out with a guy a few times and it putters out or I lose interest or he blows me off. It happens all the time. I can't keep track of the stable of men that float in and out of my life like the Forrest Gump feather.
It's especially weird at parties when I run into friends and they ask for updates about a guy I went out with a handful of times who was about as memorable as the contestants on the last season of The Voice. I haven't thought about any of these guys in months so when a friend asks about a dude from my past, I have to really concentrate on who she's referencing. I could feel her judging me as she chomped on her celery stick.
To people in committed relationships, it probably sounds really crazy to not remember guys I've been out with, but whatever. I'm single. I date a ton. I can't remember all the dudes. That's my life.