I was out on the town not too long ago, which for me usually means something like “I think I’ll swing by the bookstore on my way back from picking up light bulbs,” when I ran into an attractive young man.  I had this nagging feeling that I knew him from somewhere, but I didn’t want to admit my ignorance, so I just cast flirtatious looks while racking my brain.  Finally I had to admit defeat, and I said, “Forgive me, you seem familiar.  Have we met?”  There was an especially awkward pause, and then he said, “We used to date.”

There’s really no coming back from that one.  I made some polite excuse and extricated myself as quickly as I could.  I swear, I’m starting a chart of Guys I Have Dated and carrying it around for quick reference on future occasions.  It’ll have categories like “Pretended to like him but never called him back,”  “Mommy Issues,” and “Psycho Ex-Girlfriend”.  In fact, I may patent the idea and start marketing it.  I can make an iphone app where you can upload photographs of guys and list when you went out, where you went, and why it didn’t work out.  I’ll be the savior of perennial singletons the world wide.

I feel like a total drip.  Man, I wish I could remember why it didn’t work out with that guy.  Probably because I couldn’t remember we were dating.

(Image via Wikipedia Commons)