A couple days ago I ran into my friend Joseph on the street that I had known many years ago. It was one of those amazing conversations that you have on a sunny day, where you catch up on all the things that you've done for the last three years. He was apparently a karaoke star in San Mateo now and I was about to take a last weekend trip that won't involve baby poop. So lots of exciting news. We talked for 20 minutes and then we hugged, made empty promises to get together soon and then went our separate ways. Except that when I left, I realized that I was not talking to my friend "Joseph"; I was talking to my friend "Isaac"! What the hell, I had been calling him Joseph for 20 minutes! "Joseph, you are so funny!" "Omg, Joseph, I totally remember that night!" "Joe, you're the best, let's get drunk on Rosé soon!" God bless Isaac, he didn't even have the heart to tell me when we left each other that I had called him the wrong name the whole time. That will, of course, be the last time we ever see each other, because there's really no explaining away the fact that I had forgotten his name and then randomly just made up some other name to call him. I mean what kind of friend is that? And what would I say the next time I see him? Oh hey, about the last time we spoke, sorry I forgot your name and then called you by some completely different name because that's the first thing that popped into my head?! I think it's better to let this friendship die than to put ourselves through that awkwardness. #notworthit.