I need a girlfriend.
Or a boyfriend.
Or a roommate or butler or au pair.
Basically, I need someone who can introduce themselves to the people whose names I've learned and immediately forgotten.
"Hi, I'm Destinee," my girlfriend will say. If you're going to have an imaginary girlfriend, make her a 19 year-old stripper, I say.
"Hi, I'm Kyle," the guy will reply.
"Kyle! Yeah! Honey, this is Kyle!" I will convincingly chime in.
As it happens, I fly solo, which means I shuffle my feet awkwardly every time someone says "Hi, John!" and tells his girlfriend all about my life, work and dogs. Shuffling my feet is preferable to speaking my mind—"Oh, have we met before?"—but still, it's not ideal.