"You don't recognize my voice?"
(vaguely recognzing) "You know, actually, I do, but I don't know how. Can you give me a hint where I might know you from?"
(chuckles)"Oh, Jesus. Who is this?"
Holy sheep shit, it's the guy with whom I had my first "real" date back the week after I turned 16 (the before-16 dates consisting of clandestine makeout sessions with my 21 year-old Air Force boyfriend in his Mustang, but that's another story for another time). Wow.
He and I were set up through my best friend at the time; they went to school together after she moved. He played bass but was into jazz fusion and classic rock, which made him sophisticated and subversive in my 16 year-old mind. Of course, he was a transparent 17 year-old hormone who broke up with me when I wouldn't put out, but we ended up nailing each other (or attempting to) a couple years later during the summer before my freshman year of college, aka the official start of my late descent into teenage debauchery. He's the first person I ever got high with. And I remember the day, too -- it was in June of 1988 during the hottest summer days ever. It was also the first time I ever drank Ouzo.
He had eye cancer when he was, like, 8, and of course was fitted with a glass eye. I remember telling my crazy friend Mer about it (she was living in Ohio at the time), and the first thing she said was, "Ew! What if it falls down your shirt!?!?!"Oh, whatEVER.