Chikka Chikka Slim Jackson
I’ll be honest. I’m not very good with names. I can meet someone and have them tell me their name twice and still manage to forget it within seconds of our brief conversation’s end. More than likely, I’ll probably forget it while the person is still talkin’ to me. It’s one of my tragic flaws. It really is a shame…and it will never change. Ever.
Over the years, my struggle to remember names has had a crippling effect on my interaction with women. Let me be more specific:
My struggle to remember names has had a crippling effect on my ability to interact with Black/Latina women.
I can’t even count the number of times that I’ve been caught off guard by someone I didn’t recognize even though I met them before, or someone I recognized but just couldn’t remember their name. It’s happened with both men and women. But for whatever reason, I find that (Black/Latina) women tend to take it a helluva lot more seriously…
Woman: Hey Slim! Remember me?!
Slim: Heyyy (pronounced “uh-oh”). Yeah! I remember you!
Woman: Oh yeah? What’s my name?
Woman: That’s not my name. Wow. I’ve met you twice. What’s really good wit that?
Slim: I’m just bad wit names.
**In most situations, I’m able to smoothly play it off for some period of time before the truth is exposed. I may opt to ask for her number then ask her how to spell her name as I put it in her poomps my phone to make sure I “got it right”.**
The interesting thing about this is that I don’t even need to be tryna holler at the chick to get this reaction. It doesn’t matter what the venue is. It can be at a party. It can be at the club. It can be at a bar. It can be at a community service event for the homeless. If I don’t remember some chick’s name and she finds that out, more times than not there will be at least 1 person there other than myself that thinks I’m an assh*le. Actually, she will probably tell at least 1 other chick there and then that person will also think that I’m an assh*le bringing the total tally to 3. Woe is me…
Sometimes I resent the attitude that I get from women when they realize my name memory isn’t flawless. I get particularly annoyed when a chick that’s Greek gets angry at me because I don’t remember her name, where she pledged, what number she was on her line, and what her nickname was. I mean really though? Just because you have three symbols on your shirt and wear a certain color scheme I’m supposed to remember all these details about you just because I wear the wonderful letters of Omega? I don’t remember pledging or reciting an oath that included my duty to please all booty be the ultimate human database when it comes to the opposite sex. I’m an assh*le? Oh okay. Happy Holidays! I hope you flow for 2 weeks every month instead of 3-4 days! (Certified a-hole statement)
I really don’t understand sometimes. It’s like getting mad at a blind man for not being able to see, or getting mad at a deaf person for not being able to hear you. I geniunely forget names. Never once have I forgotten a name and seen the sky start falling as a result. Yet, the reaction I sometimes get from women when this happens would make it seem like that’s the case.
What’s good with this not so goodness? If I’m not tryna date cha’, what difference does it make if I remember your name the first time around? Ladies and Gents, what say you on this topic?
Sans Good Memory Sometimes,