Can You Spell That?
I like it when I meet people with names more unusual than mine. I never say the things to them that people say to me when they meet me. I don't ask, "is that your last name?" or "is that a family name?" or "what kind of drugs were your parents doing?" because I know what it's like. I just smile and introduce myself. I know what it's like to have to say your name twice when you meet people. I know the feeling that I have when I have to spell my name for people even though it's a common English word that most children know how to spell.
In college, my favorite course was taught by Dr. Ira Klein. Instantly, I loved him. I loved his parents even more. I like anyone with a name that is a statement. Dr. Klein's name tells you not only what to call him, but what he does as well.
A few years ago, I dated a man named Jerry Duty. We didn't have much in common, the sex was great and I really enjoyed telling people that I had Jerry Duty. He figured out that I was using him as an excuse to get out of work and he left me.
I'm trying to get better at remembering names. I've tried repeating names when I am introduced to people. I've tried associating names with pictures. None of it works very well. I've resorted to writing down names and a little note about them on a list so that I can recall it later. I try not to do it right in front of them because it makes me look creepy. As I was reading the names of people I've met this week, I decided that my name really isn't that bad. It could be worse.
- Sunday, Titas mixed my paint at the hardware store. I could not help myself and referred to him as Tight-A$$. The color of my paint was slightly off.
- Monday, I was transfered to the voicemail of a man named Reid Ownley. I couldn't be sure that I had heard the recording correctly, so I hung up and called again.
- Tuesday, the new massage therapist at the spa handed me his card. His name is Denis. With one n. Like penis. Only not. I will not be booking services with Denis until he adds another n to his name.
- Yesterday, I batted my eyelashes over a magazine at a man in the book store. He came over and introduced himself. His name was Kurt. "Hi Kurt, I'm rude," I said.
Yeah, like Mist.