More Middle Name

Friday, 02 March 2012

This evening, Jennifer and I once again engaged in a conversation about my middle name.

She’s not excited about this idea. She said something like, “But it’s who you are – I remember when we first met, you used to always tell people your whole name.”

“Yeah, I know, and that’s just it. So many people hate their middle name or are embarrassed by it, but I had no such issues; I was proud of my name and I liked to tell people my whole name.”

Actually, the notoriety I afforded my middle name was not initially born out of pride, but out of a need to distinguish myself from my father. My parents, in a masterstroke of creativity, bestowed upon me the same name as my father and, upon my sister, the same name as our mother. The four of us were James and Diane and James and Diane.

This was super-cute, and despite what everyone evidently thought, there were no name issues at home. After all, the big people were known as “Dad” and “Mom,” and the little people were “James” and “Diane.”

But it wasn’t so cute as the kids became adults. Our mail got mixed up. People called asking for Diane, and I’d have to ask “Which one?” My mom hated being called “Big Diane.” My Dad confounded people by introducing himself with the “childish” name of “Jim” or “Jimmy,” while calling his young son the authoritative sounding “James.” My sister took to filling out forms and signing up for magazines as “Michele Diane” (a swapping of her first and middle names). I, meanwhile, signed my full name, or at least put in thie intial – D – to distinguish me from my father.

But I don’t like my middle name anymore (I’ve written about this before).

So I want to change it.

But will it mess with my identity?

I pointed out to my wife that she changed her name, and she said she had to, ’cause we got married.

I rebutted that she did not have to. I distinctly recall initiating a conversation regarding which name we would take.

Jennifer reminded me that I was insistent we share a last name, and that I presented an argument that claimed my last name was better. At the time, she readily conceded. I knew she would, because she had lamented how she disliked that people always pronounced her name wrong, or didn’t know how to spell it. I assured her there were no such issues with my last name. So, we went with mine.

Jennifer also noted that she now uses her maiden name online, but I pointed out that she only does this so that people who knew her in her younger days (before she married the man of her dreams) can find her.

I want to have a name like I used to have – one that I am proud of and that identifies me as the person I am. If I’m going to be named after someone (as all three of my names are), then it better A) not be a stupid name, and B) not be named after an asshole.

Jennifer brought up the issue of money, so I – being the spendthrift I am – asked how she would feel about it if money was no concern. I don’t remember what she said. I think I was getting too tired.

Anyway, I don’t know. Maybe it’s silly. Maybe it’s not. Over the past two years, I’ve removed my middle name from everything that I could; even when forms ask for my middle name, I simply put the initial.