I’d been broken up with my on-and-off boyfriend of five years for about three months when I agreed to meet him for dinner. When I got there, I texted him to say I was waiting outside, and when I saw him I started waving like a doofus. He looked right past me. It took me a minute to realize that he didn’t recognize me.
Later he confessed that the bathing-suit cover-up that I was wearing as a dress — which I had bought with him the year before for a beach trip — was the only way he knew it was actually me.