I have one of those first names that woman have taken for themselves.

It’s sort of like Billy/Billie or Bobby/Bobbi except in my case both versions are spelled the same way.

It all started when ladies came up with strange spellings for their daughter’s names.

It’s no longer Jane, it’s Jyne, or Wzittica instead of whatever it should be.

I suspect the drive to be an individual outweighs common sense.

When someone calls and asks for me and I say they got me…there’s a long pause while their brain tries to handle this new information.

I usually say something like it was a guy’s name before it was a girl’s name and everybody laughs and feels better.

I like people to be comfortable after they stick both feet in their mouth.

Since I have only met one other man with the same first name in my entire life, you can understand it was an unusual name before women stole it.

Now, if you do a Google search on my first name and look at the images tab, there’s nothing but pictures of women.

Including one of a stripper in pasties named Courtney Crave.
Not bad.

Then there’s Courtney Stodden.
She’s an embarrassment to the world.

I try to see the positive side to all this.

Mail addressed to “Ms” can be automatically thrown out since it’s obvious they really have no idea who I am.

Then, my wife can use my credit cards without anyone thinking she might have stolen them because they assume the name on the card is a woman’s name – and she’s a woman – so all is well.

As long as it’s not at Macy’s.

She has a long and very personal history with every employee there due to buying at least one of everything if it’s on sale.

And we know everything in Macy’s is on sale at one time or another.

Especially ugly shoes.
But we’ll save that for another time.

I’ve wondered what it would be like to be married to someone with the same first name.

Sounds like a script for a bad sitcom.

I comfort myself by thinking all the ladies I have met in my life loved me and my name so much that they gave it to their daughters.

That’s really quite an honor.

Now cut it out.

It’s causing me grief.