I have a shitty memory. Long term, short term, currently happening, happened thirty seconds ago, casual detail, so important that if I remembered it I could win money… just pathetic memory all around. I’ve spent a decent amount of time through some formative years being around one of my best friend’s Nikki (shout out to @Donatiennela) who has the memory of a professional Jeopardy winner. But she doesn’t remember historical facts or have the ability to recite text from an obscure book that people consider super intellectual. Her brain has no room for such nonsense when its occupied with more important things like remembering with perfect clarity her sixth grade locker combination and exactly what outfit I was wearing when I had my first post beer party, awkward/inappropriate sexual encounter (a bikini top and denim skirt obvs).
Oddly enough I can remember extremely embarrassing and non-important information like what Mario Lopez named his baby (Gia) or which night Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills is on (Mondays 9pm). So, obviously my brain has the capacity to remember things, but it feels so superior to remembering people’s names, and facts that go over well at a dinner party where the seats are filled with people who have gone to college. One of my all time favorite things to do is impress people, so I make a conscious effort to try to memorize a bizarre fact about something. Knowing something really random can save you when ten minutes later you aren’t up to date on the current Republican candidates being considered to run for office. I want so badly to talk shit about these people who I already know I’m not going to like, but I can’t unless I’m legit informed.
A few things to be aware of when wanting to reference an obscure fact at a dinner party:
– Its possible that someone like you, if you’re anything like me, doesn’t really know a true obscure fact. So then it’s very possible that you think a random fact you stored in that little brain is actually a well known fact. For instance, if you decided to casually mention that there are five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes in a year, everyone will be like, “yeah, I saw Rent too”.
– When referencing a news story that you want everyone to know you’re aware of, you need to consider the source. If the topic of developmental issues in a fetus comes up and you spit out your wine to talk about a video you watched that shows the growth of a fetus sped up under different conditions that is really fascinating, you better be prepared to admit that you might have possibly seen it on PerezHilton before someone calls you out on it.
My terrible memory has not served me well in relationships of the romantic nature. Of course, remembering anniversaries and other occasions where I might receive a gift were easy. I’d be like, “Oh yeah, you’ll be out of town on November 16th?! That’s interesting since it’s our FUCKING seven month anniversary.” But then I’d be like, “Who’s Carol and why do you keep talking about her?” And he’d say, “She’s my mother, Erin. We’ve been together seven months. Carol is my mother.” And obviously that’s when I would attempt to save face by claiming some type of mental disorder that makes me forget really really important things.
Other times this handicap never serves me well is in arguments. Facts and details are VERY important in an argument. One little slip up on the time something happened or the exact wording a promise was made with, and you’re done. You’ve lost the argument. Your points are no longer credible. Now, in my relationships way before I was evolved like I am now, I loved to rehash issues I had forgotten to bring up at the time that they bothered me. While I spewed out details about how he had disrespected me by saying he would call when his meeting was finished and had failed to do so, that moment would come when I would see a look in his eyes. This is when he realized that no matter what he had said before, he was now gonna go at me from the angle that I notoriously have a bad memory and am probably confused about what I thought I heard. Nothing pissed me off more than this angle. It was too hard for me to win at this. It forced me to combat this tactic by throwing a huge fit and storming out of the room. If we were not in the same room, then the other choice would be hanging up the phone on them. See; Maturity.
I want to point out that I have done zero drugs to explain my wiped memory. Okay, a little pot in high school. Certainly not enough to have me occasionally forget my own email address.