That’s Not My Name!

They call me quiet girl, but I’m a riot, Mary-Jo Lisa, always the same…

No this isn’t a s**t post love note to The Ting Tings, it is actually something that caught me off guard recently.

Meeting a new bunch of people can be stressful. However, what’s worse is when you’re given a new name too.

Any normal person would just say, “that’s not my name.” The other person would be like, “oh whoops, sorry, I’m awful with names.” They’d laugh and the world would be a better place.

NOPE.

Hello, nice to meet you, I’m painfully awkward.

Yeah, I won’t correct you. I’ll just carry on being called anything that is shouted at me, which doesn’t help remedy the situation, it generally only makes it worse. It gets to a point where you’re in so deep with this other name that you can’t go back and say it’s not your name because, well, then you’re weird. So then your name changes from whatever they’re calling you to ‘the weird one’.

I mean, if I know you’re talking to me and this talking-to-each-other thing isn’t going to be long term, then I’ll just reply to any said given name. As long as we both know what the name is… then I’m down. It’s just if this sporadic moment turns into a long term thing you need to enlist the help of others: The name changers.

Yes, a secret underground network of mutual friends to drop hints that you are actually not called whatever the hell they are calling you. Through your own stupidity and awkwardness you have inadvertently become the name changing version of Sherlock with your own equivalent of his “homeless network.” In conversation you get them to drop the odd hint, the odd confused look, the odd correction until the other person gets it.

In short, either way you’re going to look like a twat. Either the other person thinks you’re weird for not telling them sooner or you have to take on a different name/identity. Just correct them there and then the first time it happens.

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