I dated a woman for five years, and did not know her name. I married her without knowing her name, which is — words fail me here — bad. A faux pas, if you will.

I thought I knew her name, but I didn’t. I only learned it after we had been married-slash-dating for four years. I was on the phone with my friend James — who I hadn’t spoken to in a while — and we were on speakerphone. My wife was in the room. “Hey, do you want to…