The Name Game (Observation)

I get called Jennifer a lot. An unbelievable amount, especially when you consider that it doesn't sound like my name - hell, it doesn't even rhyme.

My name is S-t-e-p-h-a-n-i-e. When I was go-go dancing my heart out in clubs during the nineties, the roar of the crowd would often interfere during introductions and I ended up with being Tiffany, Melanie, and sometimes even Annie , which while I was at a club, I didn't mind. I was wearing silver pants and could be anyone I wanted to be. Why not Tiffany? But in the real outside world, I couldn't have let it go uncorrected.

I spent my dreamy teenage years wishing with eyes tightly shut for someone to use my name in a song. There were lots about girls, so I kept hoping. 'Amanda' by Boston and 'Sherry' by Steve Perry stand out. Then there’s Kiss’ ‘Beth.’ Sigh. I felt like my time would never come. I looked to stars. Maybe there were some famous Stephanie’s that could show me the way. Stephanie Zimbalist. Stefani Powers. No offense, but not the most inspiring list.

There were years of whiling away time in stationary stores, spinning racks of pens and pads of paper that were emblazoned with the first names of seemingly everyone in America but Stephanie. They now make the items with my name but the Stephanie slot is always surreptitiously empty, showing only Steve, Stephen and sometimes even Stella.

Everyone has name horror stories. Scott can’t stand the Scott Paper dispensers in public bathrooms. They bring up bad memories of public school. So much so that when we moved in together, he made me swear to steer clear of any Scott Paper product. And Chris’ isn’t so much a horror story as giggle-inducing: His mom named him Chris back in 1960 because she thought it was a truly original name. Yeah, like Mary, Tom or Sara. Poor Chris, but at least he doesn’t hate his name.

I have tried to understand why people think Jennifer when they see me. Is it something in the name Stephanie that is innocuously a proponent? Maybe I just look like a Jennifer. When I tell the story of being constantly called Jennifer, people say that I could be a Jennifer. I sincerely hope not (no offense to all the Jennifer’s out there). It’s not the name Jennifer that I object to; it’s that I feel very much like a Stephanie. I don’t want to be anyone else. Ever.

I didn’t always love it. Because after all, most people don’t make the effort to call me by my full name, so to most people, I am Steph. My parents have never called me Stephanie – I am only known by the short form. So, in my dreamy teens I wanted to be called what I considered to be ‘sophisticated’ names like Ashley or Marilyn. I also wanted to be a famous rock drummer. You can see how that all worked out.

Now that I am embedded into my early thirties, I love my name. There are rarely more than one of me at a party. I like that it’s nine letters long. It shows a real permanence, a dedication to my moniker. I think it’s pretty. And the love of my life always calls me by my full name. I am finally the person I’ve always wanted to be, partially thanks to him. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I knew a guy named Gord Henning. He was a relative of former magician and Green Party Leader Doug Henning. Even if he just introduced himself as Gord and the person was unaware of his last name, they would undoubtedly call him Doug later. Even though there was no apparent family resemblance, something was compelling people, a lot of people, to call him Doug. Maybe it’s because Doug backwards is practically Gord? It’s a stretch, but what else could it be?

There are crazyass names these days. There’s Jayden/Jaden, Addison and Caden/Kaden for boys and Madison, Riley, Mackenzie and Cadence for the little ladies. Not only are these names crackerjack crazy, they are from the top 20 names from 2004 compiled at the BabyNames.com website, so now they’re popular as well.

Spellings, as you can see, have become insane. Take Rachel, for example. It seems like a fairly innocuous name. Not much you can do to it, right? Wrong.

Rachael, Racheal, Raechel, Rachell/Raychel

And it gets bad. Really bad, after this. Check these out:

Kaylee, Kailey, Kayleigh, Kali, Kaylie, Kaleigh, Kailee, Kaley, Kayley, Kayli, Kalie, Cali, Caleigh, Cailey, Caylee, Kayle, Kalee, Kaylea, Kaeli, Caley, Kalei, Kaili, Kaily, Cailee, Kaeleigh, Cayleigh/Caylie, Kaeley, Kaelee/Kaylei, Kaely, Calie, Kaelie, Keilea, Caeley, Keily/Keylee, Keile, Cayli

and

Jacqueline, Jacquelyn, Jaclyn, Jaqueline, Jacklyn, Jackeline, Jacquelin, Jackelyn, Jacquelynn, Jaqueline, Jaquelyn, Jacklynn, Jaclynn, Jacquelyne, Yacquelin, Jakelin, Jacquline, Jacqulyn, Jackelin, Jacalyn.

Even my own name is not immune:

Stephanie, Stephaney, Stefanie, Stefani, Stefany, Stephani, Steffany, Stephenie, Stephaine.

Then the not so crazy - I know a singer called Aruna, which I think is pretty and evocative. A long time ago I fell in love with a sexy guitarist named Basil, but he was ‘Baz’ to everyone who knew him. It summed him up perfectly – different, edgy and artistic. And I think Roshanda is one of the most beautiful names E-V-E-R.

As a result of my research, I recently discovered that Lou Reed has a song called 'Stephanie Says.' And then I remembered kick ass drumming mama for Kid Rock, Stefanie Eulinberg.

It was worth the wait.

Sincerely,

Stephanie Dickison