Face Time

"Mark, who's that woman?"
We were watching a movie, and it's the inevitable question that I ask every single time.
"That's Mila Kunis."
"Have I ever seen her before?"
Mark looks at me like I've just beamed in from the Star Ship Enterprise.
"That '70s Show, Black Swan. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Oh, she looks different."
She really doesn't look any different, it's just me and faces. I have a hard time remembering them unless I have constant contact with a person. If they have a funny hairdo, that also helps.
I don't know if I have Prosopagnosia, I just know that I don't recognize people, especially if I run into them away from the setting that I'm used to seeing them in. I am a bit better with men than women, but only if they are extremely good looking. I burn those faces into my memory.

Saturday Abandoned Pet Rescue had their annual benefit dinner. This is the fourth year Mark and I have gone to it. Many of the people there are people I know. The problem is that I know them in the context of the animal shelter. In this setting, all dressed up with makeup, and nice clothes without dog hair on them, I have a hard time recognizing many of the same people I talk to all the time. So Mark and I are sitting alone at a table, and I see a lady I walk dogs with. Her name is Jackie, and I know it's her because she has a funny hairdo. She is with another woman, and I motion across the room for them to come sit at the table with us. They make their way over to our table and sit down. We chit chat for a minute, and then I look directly at the lady with Jackie, and I say "Hi, I'm Alan, what's your name?"
She looks at me with a sort of astonished look on her face, followed by the words, "Nancy, I'm Nancy."
Mark rolls his eyes, and looks at me. I've done it again. I see this lady at least twice a week. We've joked about picking up dog poop, yet she was a stranger to me. Maybe if she had a dog on a leash, and a bag of poop in her hand I'd have recognized her.