I Have Socialgraphic Memory

For when you accidentally remember everything about someone

Doesn’t our whole life revolve around our relationships with others? People we love, people we loathe, people we think are cute and/or hot, and everyone in between. Very often, the people we meet in passing just fade into obscurity or become just another face in the St Andrews crowd. However, sometimes, especially for those burdened with a memory that adores and obsesses over social interactions, these people do not blur away. They instead become a figure that you see everywhere, clouded by the miasma of the odd bit of knowledge you remember about them. This is what I deem the curse of the small talk memory: knowing more than you thought you would, or should, about someone, but not enough to do a whole lot with. 

Firstly, I would like to specify that my memory is only good when it comes to these random facts about people. Birthdays I forget; important dates wander away from me with ease; and I have only the usual amount of competence with names and stuff. However, if you ask me what my eighth-grade locker buddy's favourite song was, I would immediately answer with ‘Sitting on the Dock of the Bay’ by Otis Redding. I did not choose to remember this piece of information, regardless of how good the song is. What was meant to be a little conversation during a five-minute break has been wedged in the nooks of my brain ever since.

Let’s do a shoe swap briefly. You meet someone at a party and get chatting. Once all the easy questions are out of the way, once we know where everyone is from and what everyone studies (followed up nearly always with “Oh wow, that’s so impressive!” if you are nice and kindhearted), you find yourself following these threads of conversation into whatever web they weave. This could include where people were born, their hobbies (both past and present), or their favourite holiday. For the small talk endurer, these nuggets of human information slip away, replaced by song lyrics or something of the like. However, for the socially obsessed, these coals dig into the crevices of your brain and become diamonds; chunks of knowledge that are too embedded to be eroded, but not pertinent enough to daily life that they pop up constantly. 

In a town this small, you are almost guaranteed to see this one-and-done acquaintance somewhere. I know I have made many an awkward eye contact, wherein I stare at someone too long in anticipation of them remembering me. Yet, there is no worse feeling than having an isolated interaction and then inevitably bumping into the person again and having them not remember you. They think you are meeting for the first time, but you know that you are actually re-meeting — and it puts you in a dilemma. Do you admit that this is not a new introduction at all? That choice makes you seem like you are an enthusiast and fan of this person, to the point of excessive recollection. Moreover, it makes them feel embarrassed for forgetting someone who so clearly cared about that one-off conversation. On behalf of us cursed with a socio-genic memory, let me assure you that this interaction was the regular amount of interesting! We enjoyed it just as much as you did (hopefully), only our minds refuse to let go of the details. I find it best to just keep quiet and relearn everything I already knew. I usually learn something new anyway, and thus my secret archives grow only further! 

Meeting new people? Mostly fun, in the right circumstances and mood! Remembering random facts that sometimes make people uncomfortable because they do not remember having that conversation? Less enjoyable. For many, you just fell out of a coconut tree, as Kamala Harris would say. But for all of us who hang onto those small talk moments, we know that we exist in the context of all in which we live and what came before us (thank you, Kamala). Regardless of the potential embarrassment and perceived fan behaviour, I believe there is a beauty in paying attention to people!

Illustration by Kyla Biesty