On vacation visiting my parents three, or four years ago, I'm at a party with the mayor, and the literal who's-who of our town, and several fun friends invited for a family event. The night starts to get late, and by this point I'm probably pretty stoned, I don't drink much, but I remember drinking a few after someone slightly familiar talked me into it. I can't remember his face. Anyway, so we're sitting at the bar and I think I recognize Richard Dreyfuss from across the courtyard, I guess face-blindness is intermittent when I'm feeling groovy, and I start singing: "I'm tired and I want to go home." The whole bar joins in. It was a nice sing-along. I go inside the kitchen for something completely oblivious to the fact that I just accidentally made friends with Mr. D. I'm talking to someone refilling my drink or something, and this glorious woman walks by in a wrap-around pink dress. Our eyes meet. I feel funny. I take a drink, and another. I think it's safe to say I was triggered. I feel these long dormant emotions rise up to the surface of a frozen lake of memory. Nothing. Lacuna. No recognition, no nothing, just sadness. I think I'm talking to the wife looking past her at this woman: "WHY DO I?"
My first job as a husband is to make other women jealous of my wife. I don't remember the rest of the evening, just dancing, making an ass of myself, I sneak off to smoke a reefer, and I happen upon the man with the copper-hair and kind eyes comforting, this woman who is visibly upset. Her eyes meet mine. It kills her that I don't recognize her, that I have no idea who she is. Her eyes are pleading with me. They ask me to sit and talk awhile and I think I was so uncomfortable I turned around and left.
I just come out of the bathroom, and there's Christian Bale, and Richard Dreyfuss, and they are looking at an old picture of mine, and Mr. D, touches Mr. B familiarly like: this is the guy. Then, they say:
"You should be an actor."
I think I was unprepared to meet such fancy people, and I may have been a little rude. I'm not used to compliments, as I have had a lot of opposition in my life due to circumstance. I was really, really, drunk. I don't think I was prepared for Mr. B to have such a British accent, so I made fun of him. They said they were neighbors, Mr. B flashed Mr. D, a funny look. A lie? We start talking like people after Mr. B, touches Mr. D. Back like: No, I got this. Then he starts giving me shit back and it felt good. Like old friends. I tell them about my comic book Wolverine #1. My mother calls me from out side the room:
"MOM, YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF MY FRIENDS!?!?!"
Memory ends: Blackout potion.
I remember years later washing dishes at a fancy restaurant and while either cleaning, or after my shift drink, this woman with familiar eyes gestures for me to sit with her, after a big group of women leave. I feel funny and lower my head and sulk off to the kitchen.
"Why do you make me feel like this?"
"Who are you!?"
More appropriately, who am I!?
TL;DR: I secretly love Katy Perry.