R is for Ryan
Once upon a time, I was in a physics class with two guys named Ryan, one of whom was pretty cute. Through a series of convoluted events, I later ended up in conversation with the fiancée of one of the Ryans. The only problem was, I wasn’t sure which one. Both were about the same height, both had unremarkable brownish-blondish hair, and I didn’t know the surname of either. Finally, she said “Mine’s the cute one!” “Oh, the cute one,” I said. “Gotcha.”
The next day, to my surprise, the other Ryan stopped me after class and said “I heard you met my fiancée last night.” I came very, very close to blurting out “You’re not the cute one!” I smiled instead and attempted not to look so shocked.
It had not occurred to me that in the event she was engaged to the other one, her hormone-addled brain would cause her to identify him as “the cute one,” regardless of the actuality of the situation. (The other possibility is that not everyone takes a good jawline to be the most important factor in male attractiveness. That, however, is much too bizarre an idea to be taken seriously.)