Oh Hey… You!

It happened again. I was out, minding my business, when I spotted someone walking toward me with that unmistakable look of recognition. You know the one—big smile, eyes lighting up, the kind of approach that says, “Hey, I know you! We’ve had conversations! We might even be friends!”

And then, like clockwork, my brain short-circuited.

Their name? Completely gone. Vanished. Like it packed up and left town without so much as a goodbye note.

Now, I want to be clear—this isn’t a new problem. I’ve always had moments where a name would temporarily escape me. But back in my 30s, I could play it off. A quick, “Heyyy, you!” and a smooth pivot to a neutral conversation topic, and I’d be fine. Now? Now I’m at that age where my brain doesn’t even try to fake it. It just shuts down entirely, like an old computer with a flickering screen.

So there I am, standing frozen in place, this person beaming at me, clearly expecting a warm, personalized greeting. And what do I do?

“Oh my gosh, hiiiii! Look at you! You look great!” (Deflection: Level 10)

They laugh. They start talking. I nod, engaged, waiting—no, praying—for some kind of clue. Something, anything, that will jog my memory. Maybe they’ll mention their job, or their kids, or a mutual friend, or—oh dear Lord, please say your own name in a sentence.

But no. This person is fully comfortable in their identity and does not feel the need to reintroduce themselves. Meanwhile, I am spiraling.

Is it Sarah? No, Sarah is the lady from Pilates.

Is it Julie? No, Julie is my hairdresser.

Wait—was it an S name? An M name? OH MY GOD, WAS IT A NAME AT ALL?!

At this point, I have two choices.

1. Admit Defeat. (“I’m so sorry, I know I know you, but I cannot, for the life of me, remember your name.”)

2. Commit to the Bit. Ride this thing out with vague enthusiasm and hope an exit presents itself before I get caught.

Oh heck yes, I choose #2 because I am not ready to expose how fragile my mental filing system has become.

We keep talking. I nod along, laughing when they laugh, throwing out safe comments like, “Oh wow, that’s amazing!” and “Life is crazy, right?” just in case they’re telling me something important.

Then, just as they’re about to leave, they say:

“Let’s grab coffee soon! Shoot me a text!”

And it just went further downhill! 

Crap!

The next thirty minutes I sing the alphabet song  to myself hoping I hit the letter that stands out. All of a sudden it happens ! Their name pops up after I say L  (Linda) maybe it’s (Linda) or is it (Liz), no it’s (Lori)!

LINDA, Liz, Lori !!!!

I knew it was an “L” name! Well, okay, I didn’t, but at least now I can pretend I did.

“Bye ! So good seeing you!” I say, as if I haven’t just been internally sweating for the last five minutes.

She walks away. I exhale. Crisis averted. Now I have to narrow it down !

Until, of course, I run into someone else five minutes later and the whole thing starts over again.

So, to all of you out there also experiencing the Great Midlife Brain Glitch, I see you. I hear you. And if I forget your name when I see you next, please know—it’s not personal. My brain is just out here buffering like an old dial-up modem.

…But I will remember that you looked great. So, you know, it’s not all bad.