So it’s already week three and I have to ask: how do you not know my name by now? And spare me the indignation–it’s pretty clear that you don’t. That whole “Hey neighbor!” thing? Not fooling anyone. I see it in your eyes whenever I walk by–a flicker of confusion, panic, two dots that aren’t connecting–almost immediately replaced by a sort of caginess. “Hey girl! How’s it going?” you say, confident that no one can possibly see through your flimsy defenses.
Well I do. And I feel like I’m a pretty nice person who has done enough to be worth the miniscule amount of time and effort required for you to remember the handful of letters that constitute my name. Every time I pass you in the hall of our dorm, I don’t even do the whole stare, smile, avert eye-contact practice that people do when they want to pretend they have somewhere to be. I look you straight in they eye and say “How are things?”, and talk about the weather if need be, because I’m just such a goddamn friendly person. And remember that time that you needed a screwdriver to put together your futon and were wandering the halls, asking everyone with their door open? Well guess who saved the day? Whatsername. Whatsername saved the day.
You’ve seen my name. Multiple times. My name is on my door, right in front of your face every time you walk by. And remember that one time in hall meeting when we went around in a circle and matched our names with an adjective to describe ourselves? You must remember that. You were…shit. I know it was a B. Bubbly something. Brenda? Beth? Oh boy, I had this one. Or was it a G? Giggly? Dammit. See ya later girl.
