In the land of the one-syllable names, the two-syllable name is king. The land I came from, Queens, is a two-syllable land. Steven. David. Michael. Bar-bra (or Bah-bruh). Rachel. Heck, I have a one-syllable name, and my mother lengthened it to Markie. There are even a few three-syllable names like Jonathan. And let’s not talk about the old girlfriend who called me Markipoo.
Now I live in the Midwest, where a two-syllable name just seems like a lot of work. So everything is shortened. Pat. Deb. Mike. Jeff. Sue. Al. Some of these names seem to stop so suddenly that I almost feel like I’m tripping over them. Barb.
Unfortunately, now that I’m in a global “blogging” community, I’m coming in contact with people with ostensibly two- or more syllable names, and I’m not sure what to call them. Al or Alfred? Susan or Sue? Deb or Debbie? Glenn or Glenda?
Some of you two-syllable people get mighty offended if your names are contracted without your permission. I’m looking at you, David. And you as well, Mike. Or should I say “Michael”. Quit snickering, Steven! Er, Stephen.
So, if it won’t blow your cover, pipe in and tell me how you prefer to be addressed.