What's in a name?
I don't like my own name and part of the reason why is Josh is such a common name. I hate being out in public and someone's say "Josh, get over here." I turn around and it's some woman trying to keep her kid under control.
The first time it was really evident to me that it was going to be a problem was in 4th or 5th grade. There was this girl I liked, Angie, but she was in another class. I didn't really get to talk to her but I knew I liked her and wanted to. Fortunately for me my friend Dwayne who rode the same bus to school also shared a class with her. Dwayne was black by the way. It's not important to the story or life in general, but as a white person, it's alway fun to point out when you have black friends.
I asked Dwayne if he could get her phone number for me. Dwayne said it wouldn't be a problem and he followed thru. At the end of school, I met Dwayne back on the bus. I was excited to see him only to find he didn't get those digits.
What happened was he said Josh wanted her number and she began to happily write it down. Then she stopped half way thru and said, "Wait, which Josh?" He let her know it was me and she declined to finish. Maybe she could've just said, "Oh, THAT Josh and just spit into the paper, folded it up and handed it to Dwayne to give to me."
See, had I been the only Josh, she would've known it was me right away and just said no. I probably have spun it in my own head to make it more palatable. Maybe her parents were strict about the phone and didn't want friends calling. It could be they were poor and didn't even have a phone. Perhaps it could have been she was going deaf in her right ear and didn't want to risk putting lefty in jeopardy with any lengthy phone chats.
Sadly none of those defense mechanism excuses could be made because it was clear that the problem was me. And so, the first real blow to my ego had been made and all because I have an all to common name. Well that and because I sucked apparently.
The first time it was really evident to me that it was going to be a problem was in 4th or 5th grade. There was this girl I liked, Angie, but she was in another class. I didn't really get to talk to her but I knew I liked her and wanted to. Fortunately for me my friend Dwayne who rode the same bus to school also shared a class with her. Dwayne was black by the way. It's not important to the story or life in general, but as a white person, it's alway fun to point out when you have black friends.
I asked Dwayne if he could get her phone number for me. Dwayne said it wouldn't be a problem and he followed thru. At the end of school, I met Dwayne back on the bus. I was excited to see him only to find he didn't get those digits.
What happened was he said Josh wanted her number and she began to happily write it down. Then she stopped half way thru and said, "Wait, which Josh?" He let her know it was me and she declined to finish. Maybe she could've just said, "Oh, THAT Josh and just spit into the paper, folded it up and handed it to Dwayne to give to me."
See, had I been the only Josh, she would've known it was me right away and just said no. I probably have spun it in my own head to make it more palatable. Maybe her parents were strict about the phone and didn't want friends calling. It could be they were poor and didn't even have a phone. Perhaps it could have been she was going deaf in her right ear and didn't want to risk putting lefty in jeopardy with any lengthy phone chats.
Sadly none of those defense mechanism excuses could be made because it was clear that the problem was me. And so, the first real blow to my ego had been made and all because I have an all to common name. Well that and because I sucked apparently.
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