Living and Loving it: The awkward moments...

Every once in a while, you will find yourself having an awkward moment. It can last from three seconds to 15 minutes. That moment where you are not quite sure what to say, do or even think. And if you are not one who recovers fast, it can be agonising.

It ranges from going over to greet someone and give them a big hug, only to realise they have no idea who you are, to being caught flat out in a lie. I found myself in such a situation a few days ago.

I was out of town with hubby. We were driving into an estate, going to visit my cousin and her family, when I looked out of the window and saw my former schoolmate.

Excited because I had not seen her in over 10 years, I asked my cousin’s husband to stop the car so I could go greet her. I managed to make a dash and shout her name out, getting her attention just before she and her husband drove away. We were all smiles and laughter as we greeted each other. I found out she stayed in the very estate my cousin lived, not far from them actually. As we started saying bye to each other, that awkward moment popped up.

“What’s your name again?” she asked.

“Oh,” I thought, “this feels funny.”

“Carol,” I said.
“Okay,” she said.

The awkward moment then passed. She gave me her phone number, told me where she lived and hoped I could pass by and thanked me for stopping by to say hi.

I was not able to visit her as I was in that town only for a short while. I thought it was very nice of her to genuinely invite me to visit her.

I still keep thinking though about that awkward moment. She did not remember my name! To be honest, I cannot blame her too much. We were not in the same stream or dormitory and after secondary school, we hardly saw or bumped into each other.

Still, am I that easily forgettable? I would like to think I can remember almost all of the girls in my class, by face and first name at the very least.

I suppose the reason this is nagging me is because it is not the first time I am not being remembered. About two years ago, a writer of mine happened to be interviewing a source who had been my schoolmate. I expressly told the writer to tell the source that I had sent most warm regards.

I told her to be specific and tell my schoolmate, all my names because she would not recognise my married name and to tell the good lady that we had been in the same school and class and gave her as many details to give her so she could easily remember me.

Alas! My writer came back and said the woman could not remember me at all. Stupefied, I thought the writer might not have explained well so I called my schoolmate all joy and excitement, only to receive the same, “I’m sorry but I do not know you…” statement.

I suppose what bothers me most with this episode is that she did not try and bother to try and find out a little more about me, to juggle her memory.