Humbled

Here's how.    

Marilyn is now a friend of mine. We first met about five years ago, and the first thing I noticed about her was her last name: G. Hmm. So I asked her husband's first name: L. Hmmm. Where is he from? I knew the answer: Lehi. 

I dated a L G from Lehi when I was at BYU. He was a tall, good-looking guy, and he took me home to meet his parents. I liked him, but I didn't like him. You know. But I remembered that he liked me. I mean, I thought that's what it means if you take a girl home to meet your parents . . . .  

Anyway, I had a boyfriend. L, to me, was just a guy I could go somewhere with while my boyfriend was a missionary in South America for 2 1/2 years. But if a guy takes you home to meet his parents and you don't really like him, then you need to tell him you can't go out with him anymore.

So that's the back story. Here's the front.

So when I met L about five years ago I told him I remembered him. Told him we dated, I'd been to his parents' home. Etc. Guess what. He did not remember me, not even my name after I told it to him. 
Hmph. And here I always thought I was memorable. Shows to go you.

These days L is a tiny bit stooped. He's not doing as well as we'd like. He can no longer come to work with Marilyn in the temple. I have not seen L in two years, in fact, and have stopped asking Marilyn how her husband is doing. Marilyn is good but a little more serious than before.