The other week I wrote about the life of an expat and my tips on how to make things a little easier on yourself.
The post stemmed from an article which, in summary, said that one of the problems with living the expat life is that you are constantly missing out on things going on back home. Friends getting married, friends having babies, friends getting divorced, friends having more babies.
I’m lucky, I’ve never really felt that apart from my friends in the UK. I keep in touch via the wonders of the internet and, very occasionally, have been known to write the odd letter. (some would say my letters are very odd, but that’s another story).
This is all a very long winded way of saying that I’m still in touch with a lot of people from home, well done me etc.
Long time readers of this blog will know all the malarkey with N (if not, this post points you to the most relevant outpourings). You’ll also be aware, that I’m still in touch with N. That I was invited to the wedding (and went).
I don’t mind being friends with him. We went out for 5 years, for goodness sake – this man, for all his faults, was a major part of my life for a long time. It’s not the most conventional of friendships – we speak sporadically, the conversation is neutral, I never speak about men, he concentrates on his new life. We talk about rugby. And our respective parents. A muted version of adult conversation.
He’s been married over a year now. It was therefore no surprise that a baby was soon on the way.
N popped up on google chat the other week.
N: Hello Miss Moo [his nickname for me when we were going out.]
me: Hey! I was thinking about you the other day. Has baby arrived?
N: bounding baby girl born and happily pooping away
me: congratulations – when? name?
N: born last thursday……name undecided…actually *nuttycow* is a front runner…. Little Moo for Big Moo to visit…
Eh? My ex boyfriend and his new wife were thinking of calling their first child by my name?
For the most part, depending on the amount of time we went out, exs’ names have always become off limit for me after the breakup. Do you really want your child to remind you, every day, of the past, what was, what wasn’t, taunting you with the failure of yet another relationship? Ok, so maybe that’s over egging it a little, but you get what I’m saying. You don’t name your child the same thing as your ex. Generally, it’s weird.
There are exceptions. If the name is fairly common and lovely (say, for example, if I had a name like Emma, or Sarah, or Rachel, or Catherine) then, sure, it’d probably work. But my name? Despite the fact a character on Home and Away suddenly appeared bearing the same name, it still isn’t that common. I don’t know another (although there used to be one in my class when I was about 6). I’d hazard a guess that most of my friends would probably say I’m the only one they know…
So yes, to say I was a little, weirded out by the conversation would be an understatement. They couldn’t be serious about it… could they?
Two weeks later:
N: all done…*nuttycow* Middlename Surname…………….naming babies is a pain in the arse
How does one respond to that? (short of running away screaming)