Nicknames

I just got an email from my best friend. We have known each other since seventh grade. For those of you good with math skills, that is a long time ago. AA, being the beautiful man he is, posted a comment under each of my blogs so far. You should read them, and get a taste of his humor. You'll want to come back for seconds, trust me. He and his wonderful wife just had their first baby. They named him Brandon, after yours truly. Ok, fine. They didn't, even though they should have. Whatever. Don't know why they thought they had to give the kid a cool powerful name. Brandon has a very nice ring to it. Like how I share about your family with the world, bud? Just my way of covering your ass so everyone knows you're straight, even though your best friend isn’t. Straight. Shudder. No, judgment, it’s your lifestyle choice, not mine! :) Anywho, in this email, AA asks why he does not yet have a nickname (mine is Fitch, you can ask him if you want to know why. Here’s his phone number: (970) 555-POOP—just kidding.) I am in a mood today, just warning ya. His pondering made me think about my favorite topic: ME!
I have had many nicknames throughout my life. The first being: Red—due to the red hair, yeah, points for originality on that one, people. Thanks! In high school, one of my nicknames was Rip. Because I was so tough that people compared me to the Grim Reaper. Or because I ripped my jeans in front of one of the school hotties while I was lifting weights and then again on our senior trip as I was getting on a horse, whatever.
In college, I was Yee-Haw, ‘cus I was a wrangler wearin’, big belt buckle tottin’, country singin’ fool. I was also called Wolverine, because people thought I looked like an action figure when I ran (honest, really not making that up). My favorite, of course, is Fitch, because it came from AA. Today, my nicknames are Pumpkin, Dear, Sweetie, Lamb-Chop, Honey Baby, and Big Hunk of Man Meat (ok, I only wish I were called that last one). That is because I hang out with a bunch of fags all the time, we all have those nicknames. I liked having nicknames that were specific to me. For a boy who felt hidden and unequal all the time, nicknames gave me a sense of belonging and showed me people at least noticed specific things about me enough to christen me with a alias (wonderful show, btw, you should watch it). It is something I carried over into my counseling job. Most of my kids had nicknames from me. I was informed as I began teaching that such a habit is less than professional. If Bill Clinton can get off in the Oval Office and George Bush can lead a crusade to prevent me from getting married, I can give my kids nicknames!
While adults do not normally acquire new nicknames to identify themselves, I can not help but wonder what nicknames I might pick up in the next phase of my life. I hope they are along the lines of: Mr. Luminous Creator of all that is Satyr, or Enlighten the World Man, Sexy Hot Man, or even Mr. Brandon Ricky Martin. Chances are the nickname will be more along the lines of: Likes to Hear Himself Talk Boy, Ignorant Blowhard, or Short Hairy Troll Guy. Whichever, I will take what I can get. Bad attention is better than no attention at all! See, I did learn something in my six years working with kids!