I've heard all the jokes about aging, where people laugh a little nervously when they forget things and call it a case of "CRS" (Can't Remember Sh*t)---as if we're giving the stink-eye to the future possibility of dementia or Alzheimer's.
My Hubby, who is probably one of the smartest, most compassionate and most articulate of persons I've ever been fortunate enough to know has the wit of a steel trap. He also has the memory of a steel sieve, for a lot of things (Not according to him, of course). Hah.
Over the years we've been together, there have been multiple times that he's misplaced his wallet, his cell phone, his keys, or certain credit cards. He's insisted that he put them in xxxxx place, and either I, or the kids, or the evil hiding-stuff-just-to-mess-up-my-day genie must have MOVED whatever item because he KNOWS where he last put it.
And of course, I can walk into our bedroom or bathroom, and find the item either on top of his dresser, or in the pocket of the pants he wore the night before. Then he gets pissy and practically accuses me of hiding the item just to mess with him. Hmph. If he wasn't so darn cute he'd be spending a LOT of nights on the couch.
Ok to be fair, yes, once....he left his cell phone at the customer service desk at the grocery store. Couldn't solve that problem. But at least it wasn't caused by me, the kids, or the evil-mess-up-my-day-genie.
But there's another kind of forgetfulness that I never hear that much about. I'm calling it the Marital Mind-Meld. It's when you've been together so long with your partner, or you're so in tune to each other that you start sharing memories even if they aren't yours.
For example: Back when we were living in sin, about 15 years ago, we lived in my little house south of Denver close to a highway which is kind of a back way to get to the ski resorts. One late spring evening I was coming home from somewhere (Hubby-then-boyfriend was at the house watching the boys) and stopped to get some gas about a block from the highway.
As I was filling up the tank, I glanced around. A woman was pumping gas on the other side. I did a double-take. Was it? Could it be? She looked just like a famous international sports star. She had the signature "mulletish-do" she wore back then (except I don't think I knew to call it a mullet), but she was a bit shorter than I had imagined she'd be. I was trying to figure out how to strike up a conversation with her (she was completely oblivious to my presence) because the star had a somewhat distinctive accent, when her companion came out of the convenience store and did it for me.
She asked her if she wanted anything and they chatted for a minute while they were finishing up with their gas. Yes! I was sure that it WAS her! Wow! Her companion gave me a little smile and a wave as they pulled out. I rushed home.
You would NOT believe who I saw at the 7-11! Hubby was excited because he's a huge fan.
We told the "pumping gas across from sports star" story often enough over the years for it to become part of our family lore. One of our very few brushes with fame.
A year or so ago, we had friends visiting that we hadn't seen in awhile. We were chatting about this and that, and in the middle of a story, hubby told them about the time "we" pumped gas across from famous sports star. I raised my eyebrows a little, but thought maybe he was just caught up in the story. I wasn't going to correct him in front of our friends either, because well, I hate people who do that to their spouses. Made a note to mention it later, but never got around to it.
So a few months ago, we were laughing at something on the TV, and Hubby says, "That reminds me of the time I was pumping gas across from famous sports star."
Whhaaaaa??? You weren't even there!
"What are you talking about? Of course I was there!"
No you weren't! You were taking care of the boys and I came home and told you about it!
He was completely befuddled. Disbelieving and disturbed. He clearly has a memory of the incident, although he can't tell you what famous sport star was wearing or what side of the pump her vehicle was on. I can, because of course, I was the one who was there, and got a good eyeball of what she was wearing while trying to figure out if she was indeed, the sport star.
How weird is that?