Nice to Meet — I Mean, See You, Again (And Again)

You know what’s worse than running into your ex while looking like a sweaty baked potato? Running into literally anyone when you can’t remember if you’ve met them before.

Welcome to menopause, where the hormones are on strike, your memory is on sabbatical, and your social skills have gone on an all-inclusive cruise without you.

I’ve always been terrible with faces and names, but now? I can barely remember my kids, let alone if I met you at a school function, the grocery store, or in a dream I had last Tuesday where I was married to Jason Momoa and also somehow a dolphin.

The other day, I saw a woman at Walgreens. She looked vaguely familiar, so I did the thing where you squint just enough to look inquisitive but not so much that you look like you’re trying to smell them.

She approached bountifully "Buenos Dias!" And proceeded to hug and kiss me on the cheek.

I smiled and replied “Hola”, still visibly confused.

She looked at me with pity and partial offense. "How are the girls? I miss them so much! Tell them to stop by my class for community service hours."

Teacher. Right.

I’ve decided "Nice to see you" is my new default greeting. Safe, friendly, and doesn’t require me to access the dusty filing cabinet in my brain labeled social interactions.

It doesn’t stop there. Mid-sentence word disappearances? Check. Unpredictable emotional surges? Check. A sudden urge to flee the room because you can’t remember if you left the stove on or just because you hate everyone today? Double check.

Menopause is basically like being a teenager again. but instead of just acne and hormones telling you to fall in love with the drummer in a garage band, you now also get hot flashes and the urge to kill someone for breathing too loudly.

The best part? Nobody warns you that menopause turns you into a walking "Buffering…" icon. We’re out here spinning, sweating, and making friends one awkward re-introduction at a time.

So if you see me at the store, the gym, or the seventh circle of hot flash hell, just wave. If I don’t respond, please know that I mean "Nice to see you," or "Nice to possibly remember you," or "Nice to stand here in mutual confusion until one of us fakes a phone call."

After all, it’s not personal, it’s hormonal.