The Name’s The Thing

I was seven months into my first year in University and had to stay at the student dorm with around 500 other first-year students. My uncle kept pestering me whether I had met his friend’s daughter. I kept telling him that it was like looking for hay in a haystack. One day, his wife called when I was at the canteen with a friend and their roommate.

Friend: “Why did you sound annoyed at the end?”

Me: “My aunt and uncle are asking me the darndest thing.”

Friend: “What?”

Me: “They keep asking whether I have met their friend’s daughter. They don’t even know her name — the most important clue I need!”

Friend’s Roommate: “My dad, too! You might as well be looking for me and I’m looking for you.”

Me: “Might as well. What’s your dad’s name?”

Friend’s Roommate: “[Uncle’s Friend].”

Me: “That’s the same na—” *eyes going wide* “Wait! No!”

My friend’s roommate’s eyes went as wide as mine.

Friend’s Roommate: “You’re kidding?!”

Me: “Does he have a friend named [Uncle]?”

Friend’s Roommate: “Yes!”

Me: “With a son that looks like [Famous Chinese Actor]?”

Friend’s Roommate: “YES!”

Yep. She was my uncle’s friend’s daughter, and we had known each other for seven months at that time. We had just never mentioned my uncle’s or her dad’s names, and they kept forgetting our names.