"Dear Noelle, I have a problem. I am madly in love with a wonderful man, but I really hate his name. I can't stand it. I hate his first name, and his surname and I especially hate the way both of his names sound together. I just can't bear it. I hate the sound of it, and I can barely bring myself to say it. This is a weird problem and I don't know what to do about it. Help."
Dear Help. I got a lot of letters over the past two weeks but your problem is easily the most interesting one. Also I chose to answer yours first because I sympathise.
"What's in a name?" asks Juliet Capulet, "... It is not hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man."
Juliet, of course, is trying to get her head around the fact she's in love with a man called Montague. This is a problem for Juliet because of the ancient blood feud between her family and his, not because of any inherent aesthetic objection she has to his name (and why would she? Romeo Montague is a lovely name) but I think we can apply her words to your situation as well.
What's in a name, is what you're asking. How can I love someone and yet hate his name? Does that mean I don't really love him?
Or that I love him less than I should? Names are fundamental, right? You know this, that's why you're asking. You're bothered by this, and that's why you wrote.
I'm pretending to be a philosopher this week, in this column at least, and I think your problem goes to the heart of a deep philosophical conundrum. That is, is it possible to love something, and hate it as well?
That's confusing. Or maybe you're worried you'll get separated from him in a crowd and won't be able to call out and find him.
How bad have things got with this name? Can you whisper it, or write it, can you bear to see it written down?
Poor you. That must be horrible for you. You must feel very guilty, and very bad.
There's an easy way round this I know. Just call him pookie, or monkey, or cheesecake, or any of the million names lovers give each other, and the rest of us have to endure when they say them out loud.
Yes, you could call him baby, or darling, and I've always found pet is a great one too, but that's not really the point is it?
For a number of reasons, it is important to be able to say the name of the person you love.
We are our names, aren't we? The name we are given is how we are known in the world, it is the thing that encapsulates us, the sound that symbolises us.
It is everything we represent gathered up into a few syllables that become the sound of who we are. It is a good thing therefore, to have a good name. A snappy name, a smart name, a strong name.
Bob Dylan knows this - that is why he left Zimmerman back in Duluth, Minnesota when he went off to make his way in the world. Anna Mae Bullock knows this this; she knows Anna Mae can't fill stadiums, but Tina Turner can. Some names are better than others. Some names just hit the spot. Cary Grant knew it, which is why he dropped Archibald Leech as a handle fairly sharpish.
Good names, strong names, names that ring out with poetry and music - these are things to be envied.
Theodore Roosevelt, Michael Stipe, Doc Holliday, Heinrich Himmler, Rudolph Nureyev - these are all good sounding names. The inclusion of the Nazi is in questionable taste, I know, but you can't deny it's an enjoyable name to say.
John Key is another good name, isn't it? It has a nice ring to it, and the Key bit is solid and strong. I can see why Bronagh went for it; I'd probably go for a John Key myself.
Women's names are different. The best ones are full of poetry, mystery or style.
Maud Gonne, Scarlett Johanssen, Wallis Simpson, Alabama Whitman. Superlative names. Superlative women.
So I sympathise with you, Help.
Names are important. I think so too.
You don't tell us the name of your wonderful man, so we are free to make it up for ourselves. Is it Horace, I wonder? Or Kelvin? Or Gerard? Or Dwayne?
I once knew a Reynard I couldn't stand the sight of; maybe it's that. Maybe he has one of those awful surnames, all ps and bs and diphthongs.
Or maybe its something double-barrelled and pretentious and wet.
Maybe it would help if you could figure out why it is you hate his name so much? Does it remind you of someone, someone you didn't like, or someone who hurt you?
Or maybe it's that you don't think your man-friend suits his name?
If he's a Gerald and he should be a Tom, or a Leonard who should be an Alexander, what's the harm in making him one?
He's your boyfriend - you can call him whatever you like, once you both agree on it. Keep it to a whisper though, if it's a sickener; some names are best kept secret, as you already know.
Good luck with the christening. All the best, Noelle.
Please email your problem to Noelle McCarthy - noellevivien@gmail.com
<i>Noelle McCarthy</i>: Love's true challenge is hard to handle
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