When I went home for my high school reunion I was called the wrong name by not one, but two of my classmates. I blame the fact that my previous presence in their lives and my recent internet fame was forgettable… not on my personality, but on my name.
Here is a reenactment of the first time I introduce myself to most people:
- ME: Hi, I’m Darby.
- THEM: Darcy?
- ME: No, Darby.
- THEM: Debbie?
- ME AGAIN: No, Dar-BEE.
- THEM: Darcy?
- ME (broken): Yes.
And years later we inevitably find ourselves in a meeting where they call me Debbie and those that recognize the error say nothing because, well that’s just awkward for all, and all others in the conference room make a mental note that they were right and henceforth call me the wrong name too.
Darby means Free Man in Gaelic, seeing as how I am neither I could maybe see why you are so sure I’m saying my own name wrong. Now that I think about it, I wonder if my name was a self-fulfilling prophecy… I’ve won my fantasy football league three times, the speed bag and the drum set in the basement are mine and I’m in a band with two dudes (not to mention that if we all got in a fight, I don’t think I would drop first).
I know I’m not the only one plagued thusly, among my cohorts are anyone whose first name consists of two names (with and without dashes), anyone named after an inanimate object and professional athletes whose parents took a stab phonetically.
So to all those with Boy Named Sue Syndrome, take solace in the fact that you are who you are in spite of your name. Or make fun of these people… their names suck so much they made it in Funny or Die’s Amazingly Unfortunate Names list:
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