I seem to be in the middle of a streak. Not the kind of streak Ray Stevens sang about or something the Dallas Mavericks tend to have every few weeks. Instead, it's involving me attending a wedding and people I have known for a long time don't recognize me.
The people that don't recognize me have a very valid excuse: I was thirty pounds heavier and had a crooked goatee around my mouth when they last saw me. But this was me ten years ago.
Maybe I should have befriended these people on Facebook or sent a random hello message before the wedding. That thought never really crossed my mind. And besides, not everyone is on Facebook and I don't have everyone's e-mail addresses.
You know how when you're in teens and grow a lot vertically and horizontally in only a few months or years? That's a very valid reason for not recognizing someone you don't see every Thanksgiving or Christmas. It's the, "I remember when you were only this [hold your hand in the air a little above your waist] tall." This is a different matter.
This current streak started a couple of years ago, while attending a wedding for someone I've known all of my life. The last time he saw me was at my sister's wedding in 2002. I was a pudgy dude with this (hopefully-rarely-documented) dark red-haired spot. But he knew me growing up and knew what I looked like.
Alas, when he and his new bride made the rounds to tables, thanking those who came, his wife recognized me (even though I had never met her), but he didn't. The awkwardness lasted only ten seconds, but this ball got rolling.
At a wedding I went to last fall, I went up to the parents of two guys I used to play in a band with. They introduced themselves like they had never met me before. Gears were running in my head about why the father and mother were saying their names to me and shook my hand. These were people I was very close to when I played with their sons. Now this was like something out of that Rock Hudson movie, Seconds.
And lastly, certain people in a wedding I attended on Saturday didn't recognize me. Not only did they not recognize me by body or facial shape, but they didn't know how much I love to dance. (When "YMCA" comes on, I transform into a dance machine.)
It was good to reconnect with these people even if there was a moment of reintroduction. With another wedding in pike for me in a few weeks, I wonder if the streak will continue. Frankly, I hope not.
The people that don't recognize me have a very valid excuse: I was thirty pounds heavier and had a crooked goatee around my mouth when they last saw me. But this was me ten years ago.
Maybe I should have befriended these people on Facebook or sent a random hello message before the wedding. That thought never really crossed my mind. And besides, not everyone is on Facebook and I don't have everyone's e-mail addresses.
You know how when you're in teens and grow a lot vertically and horizontally in only a few months or years? That's a very valid reason for not recognizing someone you don't see every Thanksgiving or Christmas. It's the, "I remember when you were only this [hold your hand in the air a little above your waist] tall." This is a different matter.
This current streak started a couple of years ago, while attending a wedding for someone I've known all of my life. The last time he saw me was at my sister's wedding in 2002. I was a pudgy dude with this (hopefully-rarely-documented) dark red-haired spot. But he knew me growing up and knew what I looked like.
Alas, when he and his new bride made the rounds to tables, thanking those who came, his wife recognized me (even though I had never met her), but he didn't. The awkwardness lasted only ten seconds, but this ball got rolling.
At a wedding I went to last fall, I went up to the parents of two guys I used to play in a band with. They introduced themselves like they had never met me before. Gears were running in my head about why the father and mother were saying their names to me and shook my hand. These were people I was very close to when I played with their sons. Now this was like something out of that Rock Hudson movie, Seconds.
And lastly, certain people in a wedding I attended on Saturday didn't recognize me. Not only did they not recognize me by body or facial shape, but they didn't know how much I love to dance. (When "YMCA" comes on, I transform into a dance machine.)
It was good to reconnect with these people even if there was a moment of reintroduction. With another wedding in pike for me in a few weeks, I wonder if the streak will continue. Frankly, I hope not.
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