Sometimes when I’m trying to tell a story about my family, I get interrupted by people asking, “Wait, your brother’s named WHAT?” and, “Hang on- that’s your sister’s name? What’s your other brother’s name?” and the like. It’s incredibly disruptive and the object of people’s curiosity is something I’ve been trying to downplay for years, as it’s, at best, irrelevant, and at worst, horribly embarrassing.
My not-so-secret secret?
If you must.
The names and pecking order of my parents’ spawn is as follows:
Ha ha ha, yes, it’s hilarious, isn’t it? What were they thinking? Oh, ho ho ho.
Right. My whole conscious life I’ve been trying to avoid using my siblings’ names in conversation, lest suffer the inevitable, “Why aren’t you named ‘Mary?’” and hilarious questions of the sort. My parents said they didn’t plan to have us all have “P” names until they got to me, the fourth. At that point, they said, they didn’t want to disrupt the pattern.
Even stranger, though, is that my brother, Paul, married a woman who has suffered the same fate! Her name is Karen, and her siblings are Kurt, Craig, Courtney, Kristen, and Kevin. (Yeah, they’re Cs and Ks, but they all have the same hard consonant sound.) Oh, and their given surname is Collins. Heh heh.
I dated four guys named Matt. All in a row. (One of them had a sister named Paula, one’s middle name was Paul.)
I married a fellow named Aaron, much to my relief. But…wait…not only is his middle name also Paul, but he has a brother Matt who married a woman named PAULA!!!! AAAAAGH!!!!!1111
Thank GOD I never planned on changing my surname.
The gist of this is preemptive. For, hopefully in the future, if you find yourself conversing with me about my family, you’ll have laughed at me already and saved me from potential embarrassment and/or hating you.