I used to think I could turn invisible. But, as I pondered my circumstance, I realized that I blended in rather than disappeared: people just forgot I was there but knew someone was there.
My friend, Stephen, told me of an afternoon spent with friends and how much fun he had. Only after I told him specific and trivial details (what people were wearing, for instance) did he believe that I had been there.
In high school, during a club meeting, some of the kids had separated themselves from the rest of the group. They were trying to figure out a clever acronym that only they would know, that other people could read and wouldn't think twice about, but they were stuck trying to make it work with the word they had come up with. Not only was I there, I helped them figure it out. Not long after that, I used the acronym in front of the ringleader who then accused me of being a poser. I had to remind her that I had helped them figure it out. She didn't believe me for a while but after I reminded someone else who had been there, the two of us convinced her. [I may blog this another day]
It used to make me sad. I would often be left out because someone forgot to include me and, if I were there, no one seemed to remember it. I eventually grew into it and just accepted it. Oh, it still happens; quite often, in fact. In combating this 'chameleoness' I found a niche in clever/funny/silly t-shirts. Some folks think of me as always having cute shirts. But even that is starting to fade away.
The frustrating part had been in continually reasserting myself. It seemed like a broken record that I was constantly having to remind someone to call or that I was just tagging along, even if it were my idea to, say, go to an event. That's why I tend to develop friendships with someone who seems to remember me even if we don't have much in common. It's just easier to get something done and be included from the start.