Wednesday, March 25, 2009

That's Not My Name

I try not to dwell on the past.

Really a case of senility on my part since I can't very well dwell on something I can't actually remember. Didn't think it mattered much that I can't recall the events of the past decade with perfect clarity. Doubt I'm going to join any memory competitions anytime soon.

Or at least that's what I thought.

You know that intimate lil game that crazily committed couples play - hoping it will bring them closer together? The one where both make a pact to reveal their previous relationships? Dishing on past sexual assignations?

Girl : You slept with my best friend?
Boy : Well I didn't know you then!
Girl : And my sister?
Boy : Well I didn't you were related!
Girl : And my mother?!
Boy : Umm... are we related?

I call it plain crazy.

But obviously Lily and Rufus ( from Gossip Girl natch! ) don't think so since they agreed to exchange lists.

Sons
Dammit. What is your name again?

So while flipping through dull medical charts at work today, I decided to have some fun by making my own list on the notepad. Although I did muse wistfully for a brief second on the mere handful I had in comparison to the dirrrty dozens on Lily's List, I started feeling rather pleased that I didn't have all that many. Who's calling me a slut now eh? I'm practically a vestal virgin!

Then I stopped midway through my rounds. I stared at my notes - and the other names written down - in abject horror. Only to realize that I actually couldn't recall one of them. Seriously.

How could I possibly forget his name?!

We exchanged bodily fluids and all I could recall was Melbourne 1998. The date and place - and that was about it! Surely a transfer of semen, no matter how brief, would have imprinted a memory pathway in my brain! Perhaps he was sun-shiney blond? Or did he have lustrous brown hair? I think he had brown eyes though. Did he make me laugh? Was he good in bed? Did I brush my teeth afterward?

Then again I could have slept with a freaking kangaroo for all I could remember.

And since I'd met the fine OZ fella while he was tending a cafe in Chapel St, I can't even blame it on the damned alcohol. Unless you can call several cups of latte intoxicating!


Waitaminute. Umm. Did I even learn his name?

Seriously. Dwell in the past? How can I! I need to start taking some gingko biloba.

10 comments:

Tanglebloom said...

perhaps it was dream. a most lucid dream.

savante said...

But Melbourne wasn't a drunken haze. Sydney was though. And bits of London.

Little Dove said...

Maybe you need to relive the experience (in a similar setting even if with someone different) to remember the name. ;p

Evann said...

Haha try hypnotherapy! :P

Oh ok, I didn't realise that the song was "that's not my name". They always play a remix of that song in a club I go to and I'll always shout ever so proudly "they saw my name!" as though I know the song really well. How embarassing! -_-

Bino/Geno said...

Hi ya! Care to chat? :) Blog friends? Med student here. :)

Ision said...

hehe... well does not suprise me that you dont know his name... its not uncommon to not have swapped them here :p

Cheryl said...

dont border to remember the names... is not important after all (for now) right? :P

Ban said...

If its an ONS, it's no wonder you can't remember his name. Not much impact on your life. :P

Willy's Diary said...

i take photos with guys that i ons with... but i can't remember their names unless they are really good in bed LOL

Darren said...

mmm sounds very kinky~ lol