Alright folks buckle up because this post was made for me. Let’s talk about the Great Baby Naming Melodrama of 1993.
It’s important to preface this by the story of my older brother’s naming, which went: “I’ve always wanted to have a son named Max.” “Really, because I love the name Max.”
But I was going to be a girl, and my mom says, “What do you think about Sarah?” and my dad says, “I’ve always loved the name Merlin.”
And my mom goes “What. What the fuck is Merlin.”
Yes. Without my mom’s veto power, I would have been a girl named Merlin, and no junior higher deserves that. But my dad also had veto power, and he didn’t like Sarah. Or Emily. Or Hannah. He liked Merlin.
My mom came home from the bookstore one day with a book with 5,000 baby girls names. My parents ripped it apart and blacked out every name they didn’t like, trading off the pages. They ended up with thirty. They typed up the list and put it on the fridge, where it stayed for two trimesters. They would cross off a name whenever they felt they didn’t like it.
When I was born, there were three names still on the list: Victoria, Colleen, and Blair. My dad liked Victoria best, and Blair least. My mom liked Blair best, so she bided her time. She waited until I was born, then said, “A baby just came out of me. I get to name her. Her name is Blair.”
And that’s why I’m not named Merlin.
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