I’ve written before about the origin of my name, but, as I do on this blog, from time to time, I like to revisit old subjects anew.
N.
My real name isn’t N. It doesn’t begin with N.
When I was a CPOS, my “name” – that is to say, the name by which most women I had sex with knew me – was “Grey.”
When T and I started dating other couples, even before this blog existed (so a long time ago), we were dating using our real names. One of the first couples we dated – a couple with whom we still remain more than close – coached us, on our first date. “FFS,” they said, “You guys need fake names.” And, T and N were born.
This isn’t a blog about T. T can tell you (if you know her) how she came up with “T.”
This is a blog about, and by, “N.”
“N.,” if you haven’t inferred by reading elsewhere (I feel confident I’ve mentioned this, but can’t be bothered, two scotches in, to check) stands for “Nick.” Or, maybe, Nicholas.
My e-mail (or rather, the e-mail to which all e-mail related to my life as “N” is forwarded) is… nicholasonly2 at gmail.
Why did I choose Nick? Well….
It’s a not-very-long story, that boils down to:
- The very first couple T and I met when dating openly featured a dude named Nick.
- Nick was a douchebag.
- Nick’s your buddy, Nick’s your pal. [That’s how I mis-remembered the actual line – “Nick’s a real name. Nick’s your buddy. Nick’s the kind of guy you can trust, the kind of guy you can drink a beer with, the kind of guy who doesn’t mind if you puke in his car, Nick!” from “The Sure Thing.”]
N. (cont’d)
“O.k.,” you say, “I get ‘Nick,’ but why ‘N’?”
That part is easy.
Nick is sexy.
N? N is hot.
Likes
And why “Likes”?
Well, that too, is easy.
It’s because I do!