Look…I know I may not be the most assertive, in-your-face person, and I know that I’m sometimes shy and have trouble making new friends. But, let’s be honest, you should really know my name by now. I was in your section for Thinking Matters and said a faux-casual “What’s up?” to you in the corridor before class, remember? You responded with a downcast, “Hey” and then I jokingly ask whether there was anything wrong, whether you’d had 99 NSO problems, but the Dish wasn’t one. Not ringing a bell, is it? Well, I just want you to know that whenever I pass you in Meyer Library or Stern Dining, I know your name; I’m just waiting for you to acknowledge mine.  I mean, it’s not like we spent much time together, laughing about “that kid” or discussing the artifice of modern philosophy. Oh wait, it totally is like that. And this is how you repay me for 10 weeks of sharing my textbook, which you were too lazy to buy? Say my name. Just say it.

But I know you can’t. Clearly you’re too self-obsessed to remember anyone but yourself, no matter how much he may have harbored a secret crush on you or how many times he sat directly across from you in the dining hall. It’s not even a difficult name. I’m not a J’Anthony,  or a Carmelo, or a Norris. I’m the sort of straight-arrow, warmly charming, heterosexual male that might have just been perfect for you if you’d spent a little more time using your memory and a little less time texting your friend “Kevin.” Who the hell is Kevin anyway? He doesn’t even go here. I mean, I don’t live in your dorm, so I can’t expect you to have committed my name to memory, but a little recognition would be nice. Remember, when we were first introduced and I did that cool little rhetorical flourish when talking about my name’s Scandinavian heritage? You don’t remember, do you?

Of course you don’t. But that’s not to say that you shouldn’t. I’ve seen you exchanging warm greetings with the guy who serves you in Late Night, your professor, even that weird grad student who was “auditing” our class. But not me. Never me. As far as you’re concerned, I’m just a fading fragment in the muddy waters of your consciousness. Guess what, buddy, an awkward “Hey dude” won’t cut it anymore. You really should know my name by now. Say it…

Too bad I know you never will.

Sign Up for Our Newsletter

Get the Stanford Flipside sent to your inbox!

You May Also Like

Study Finds: If Your Hand is Bigger than Your Face You Need Surgery

In a packed auditorium on Saturday, Stanford Hospital Director Ken Toshi informed…

Connections to Steroid Ring Finally Explain Peyton Manning’s Giant Forehead

Following last week’s announcement of an upcoming Al-Jazeera documentary that alleges that…

Stanford Admins Exasperated at Having to Send Yet Another Fucking Email About Current Events