What's in a name?

I was talking to a friend of mine from college. I had made a comment about how long it had been since we last saw one another and something to do with politics since yesterday was Georgia's day at the poll.

He shocked me in his online response when he called me by my last name. No one calls me by that. In fact, hardly anyone, except my parents call me by my name. I have always been called Mere or Merebear or Mer-mer or some other derivative of that.

It got thinking, how long has it been since I got my nickname, and who was the first to call me that.

I believe that it all started in high school. I was friends with this older guy, but he was emotionally immature for his age. We would write letters to one another like crazy. At least three a day, each. I still have many of them. I called him Johnny (some times wohnny would make it in there. Geez, just think about it now makes me want to vomit, ugh) and he called me Mere-bear. He was the very first to call me by that name, and since then, it spread like wild fire. All my friends started calling me that. I hated it, it made me sound like a carebear or something. I didn't have a rainbow tattooed on my stomach, and I was definitely not pink (or anymore at least, that's a different story).

It was shortly thereafter, however, that my longest and oldest of friends started calling me Mer-mer. Why? Why? I would get notes from all my friends, all folded in different intricate ways, and all with different nicknames addressed to them. I also had this one boyfriend that when he got too tired and lazy, he just called me "M." Really dude, really?

Finally, it was my junior year in high school when my boyfriend at the time I believe simply called me Mere. Ahhh, I can handle that. When I went to college, I did my best to leave all nicknames behind me. I was starting anew. However, just a week in the nicknames began once more.

Jeremy was the worst. I hated, I mean absolutely hated him. He was 28 at the time and had no business hanging out with 18 year olds. He was one of those professional students, but was no where near as cool as Van Wilder. I didn't mind it so much when Sarah S. or Sarah N. called me Mere. I didn't mind it when Ben or Billy or Mike would call me Mere. But when Jeremy did, it made my blood boil. He would also call me "chicken of the sea" because I went through like 8 or 10 fish my freshman year. I blame the asbestos. When he would call me either one, I would just think, "You are not my friend sir, you cannot call me that!"

And that's when I realized it. I liked my nickname. Go figure.

Finally he left. I think that he went to Texas or something. Good riddance. Then, I was just left with Mere. Works for me.

Now, Only one person still calls me Merebear, but I don't mind it when she does. Britt, you can call whatever you like. You are too sweet.

Now I am only called Mere, which I love. If you are my friend, I bet you have hardly ever said my actual name. Eh? I'm right aren't I? And, if you are my nephew, I am Aunt Merwy, which makes my heart all warm and fuzzy (don't tell anyone though).