When I was a freshman in high school, I joined the track team. There was this extremely attractive senior girl on the team that nearly everyone had a crush on. We all just secretly admired her from afar as we went about practice.
One day after school, we ended up walking toward the field at the same time. I awkwardly walked near her trying not to look over. After a minute or so, she noticed me and started up a conversation.
"Hey, you're on the track team, right?" She said. I was overwhelmed that she was talking to me.
"Yes," I said, looking straight ahead.
"You're...Johnny, right?" I was not Johnny. Johnny was another freshman.
"No," still looking straight ahead.
"Oh, sorry. What's your name then?"
I was nervous. It was all made worse by how nice she was being to me. I wanted to stay and run at the time.
"I don't know," I heard myself saying.
It's not that I blanked on my name or anything. Of course, I knew my own name. I just didn't know how to answer. I really wished my name was Johnny at that moment. And then after I had said "I don't know," I realized how silly I must have seemed.
"You don't know your own name?" She asked and laughed.
"No," I said and ran away.
She never tried to talk to me again.