A couple of weeks ago I was purging closet stuff and came across my little address books from the 70’s and 80’s. It was interesting because I saw names of friends I’d forgotten, and several of them I searched and found on Facebook and we’ve reconnected. Only one didn’t remember me, and we couldn’t remember any shared adventures other than sitting in his living room with his family one afternoon and long phone calls at night, content unknown. Neither us of could recall mutual friends and none of the attorneys I worked for sounded familiar to him. I didn’t recall his work and when he told me, it didn’t sound familiar. We didn’t date. What I found interesting was that I had copied his name and number from one little address book to another each year as I updated. My address books then weren’t all full of business and social contacts; they were people I was close to or really resonated with. I clearly found him interesting enough at the time to want to keep adding him to each new phone book. Yet when we spoke, we both drew a blank. I could picture what he looked like, but despite seeing my Facebook photos, he could not place me. When strolling down memory lane didn’t ring a bell for either of us, we talked about what interests us now. We aren’t really into the same things and weren’t clicking, so we hung up before it got awkward. Some day 30 years down the road it will hit me where we met and I’ll get a laugh out of it all.