The Trouble With Amy

It was annoying going through elementary school with a slew of Amys. I was always known as Amy B., or in extreme cases (such as an 8th grade home ec class where there were 6 girls in the class: 5 Amys and one Susie), Amy B. #2 or Short Amy B. Occasionally, I was "Amy--the weird one." Sure, that was irritating, but I got over it. In larger workplaces, there is usually one other Amy to contend with, in which case I am branded "The dark-haired one" or "the new one" but it's not that big a deal, there are usually far more Joans and Kathys. Basically, I learned to never respond when I heard someone call "Amy!"

The most annoying part of having a super common name came later in life--every guy I've ever gone on a date with has already dated at least one Amy. I always get "Oh, I dated an Amy once. She was a real -(fill in the blank)-." If she was a freak, then the name will be forever equated with a psycho in his mind. If Amy was wonderfully gorgeous and amazing, I'll never fill her shoes. No matter who I date, I'll always be the Second Amy or the Third Amy, or That Other Amy. Is it any wonder why I go by my middle name?