What's In A Name?

I would consider myself a fairly bright girl. I mean, this cranium is definitely more than just a hat rack. So I am well aware of the fact that my name isn't exactly what you'd call 'ordinary.' It's unusual. Different. Atypical. Uncommon. Distinctive. Unique. But to my parents' credit it isn't as though it's your average Polynesian name either. It's not as if my name were: Fa'amamafakainoia...not that there's anything wrong with that.

Fast forward X amount of years and there I sat having dinner with a guy at a fairly posh restaurant, on our third date. As our waitress descended upon our table he glanced up from his menu and inquired, "Do you know what you're gonna order Gina?" My initial reaction was to quip back "DAAAAAANNNNGGGG Gina!" in the most paramount Martin voice I could muster, but quickly retracted that thought because I opted to give him the benefit of the doubt, chalking it up to what was possibly a large amount of wax build up in my ears and reckoning that I had simply heard him wrong.

A little while later our waitress came back to check on us and asked us the conventional questions regarding our meal. And once again I heard my date ask, "Galina, do you need another Diet Coke?" Now, believe me when I tell you that due to the fact that I was in mid bite of my mediocre-at-best-fillet-of-fish, I literally began choking on my own 'lil piece of Nemo. I knew at this point that Mr.Alzheimer VonForgetful was thoroughly unaware of what my name really was. But being as long-suffering as I am, I again made the conscious decision not to say anything to him for a 3-fold reason really...1) He hadn't felt the need to begin our date with a prayer. 2) He was going to pay. 3) He drove.

So there we sat, in what could best be described as an abnormally long, awkward, uncomfortable silence waiting for our dessert to arrive. As it was being delivered my date casually gazed across the heaping mound of gooey, caloric-filled pastry goodness that sat in front of us and said, "Why don't you go ahead and take the first bite, Ghana." I half expected him to categorically believe that if my first name were in fact 'Ghana' then surely he must believe my last name was indeed "Rhea"...

I had reached my breaking point. I began rummaging through my purse, dug out my magnetic name tag that I sport daily at work, and clipped it on my jacket. That way for the rest of the evening, he had it in plain sight for direct reference.

If your date can't remember your name...UNDATABLE!