86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
you stole my name and I want it back
going head to head with the people who share our names
The Internet ruined everything. Unless you’re an intrepid genealogist, the odds are that, in the days before search engines and social media, you were living in a sheltered bubble where your name was comfortably no one’s but your own. Not anymore. These days we stage our lives online, and all it takes is a 0.32 second Google search to uncover someone else— or even hundreds of others—with the very same name as you. The global presence of a name is integral to identity and even success, and so we vie for the same hot property of domain names, usernames and search engine listings. We are quietly aware of these others, and yet it’s only through a cursory search that we know anything about them. We decided that it was time to make contact with the people who share our names and find out who they really are.
photo: sean marc lee
96
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
you stole my name and I want it back
going head to head with the people who share our names
The Internet ruined everything. Unless you’re an intrepid genealogist, the odds are that, in the days before search engines and social media, you were living in a sheltered bubble where your name was comfortably no one’s but your own. Not anymore. These days we stage our lives online, and all it takes is a 0.32 second Google search to uncover someone else— or even hundreds of others—with the very same name as you. The global presence of a name is integral to identity and even success, and so we vie for the same hot property of domain names, usernames and search engine listings. We are quietly aware of these others, and yet it’s only through a cursory search that we know anything about them. We decided that it was time to make contact with the people who share our names and find out who they really are.
photo: sean marc lee
96
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
I must confess that my name is and isn’t Danielle Lurie. Save for the most official of bureaucratic documentation, I’ve always gone by the more colloquial ‘Dani’. A regular self-indulgent googling of my name reveals a sprawling digital metropolis of Me, clogging up most of the search results with my unfocussed brand of internet presence. It’s fair to say that I have the market cornered on Dani Lurie, but there was always the case of Danielle Lurie, the one who’d claimed the online territory of our shared birth name. Danielle Lurie, the other one, lives in New York and is a filmmaker by trade. Aside from this standard bio, niggling similarities hang in the air between us. Like me, she dabbles in photography and illustration (although she is the more accomplished). There is a shared love of Calvin and Hobbes. More than that, I got the impression from her work that we might both view the world and its stories in the same way, that inexplicably something seemed to click. I had to find out more, so I wrote her an email. “Hello Danielle, I’m getting in touch because, like you, my name is also Danielle Lurie.” We met, I in my bedroom in London on a Saturday afternoon, she in her own on a New York morning. There had been a week-long exchange of excited emails about our impending Skype conversation, in which we’d traded work and compliments, and unanimously decided that we were proud to share a name with the other. As we talked, we stumbled upon a sublime rapport in our stories:
88
89
90
91
92
93
We both took feminist studies classes in college and university.
95
96
Danielle lived in London as a child and I moved there as an adult. I was born and raised in Perth, Australia. Danielle spent a summer there while in college, drawing political cartoons for the state newspaper. While she was in Perth, Danielle stayed with a couple of different relatives, one of whom was once in a community theatre show with my father. The other relative is a friend of my grandmother. That is without a doubt the most bizarre coincidence of all. We ended up speaking for over an hour. We might have talked for even longer, had the faltering web connection not given a cue that it was probably time to sign off. It had been strange and exhilarating, and left me feeling almost giddy. An email arrived in my inbox shortly after with the subject “US!” and a photo that Danielle had taken of the video chat in action. “It’s so wonderful knowing you! I feel a bit like your big sister now :) Did you mention if you have older siblings or is it just the three of you? If you don’t have any older ones then I am applying for that spot. Let’s talk soon and often. xo Danielle/Dani” And I couldn’t agree more. So, what’s in a name? Nothing so profound. The similarities between us, numerous though they may be, are simply tied up in coincidence and the context in which our names were given. Still, it’s always wonderful to make a new friend and find a kindred spirit in a stranger. The name was just what led us there.
I am a long-time vegetarian. Danielle is a long-time vegan. We both own the complete works of Calvin and Hobbes.
94
Method of contact? Google search Success? Win Will you be staying in touch? Almost certainly What’s in a name? A new friend
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
I must confess that my name is and isn’t Danielle Lurie. Save for the most official of bureaucratic documentation, I’ve always gone by the more colloquial ‘Dani’. A regular self-indulgent googling of my name reveals a sprawling digital metropolis of Me, clogging up most of the search results with my unfocussed brand of internet presence. It’s fair to say that I have the market cornered on Dani Lurie, but there was always the case of Danielle Lurie, the one who’d claimed the online territory of our shared birth name. Danielle Lurie, the other one, lives in New York and is a filmmaker by trade. Aside from this standard bio, niggling similarities hang in the air between us. Like me, she dabbles in photography and illustration (although she is the more accomplished). There is a shared love of Calvin and Hobbes. More than that, I got the impression from her work that we might both view the world and its stories in the same way, that inexplicably something seemed to click. I had to find out more, so I wrote her an email. “Hello Danielle, I’m getting in touch because, like you, my name is also Danielle Lurie.” We met, I in my bedroom in London on a Saturday afternoon, she in her own on a New York morning. There had been a week-long exchange of excited emails about our impending Skype conversation, in which we’d traded work and compliments, and unanimously decided that we were proud to share a name with the other. As we talked, we stumbled upon a sublime rapport in our stories:
88
89
90
91
92
93
We both took feminist studies classes in college and university.
95
96
Danielle lived in London as a child and I moved there as an adult. I was born and raised in Perth, Australia. Danielle spent a summer there while in college, drawing political cartoons for the state newspaper. While she was in Perth, Danielle stayed with a couple of different relatives, one of whom was once in a community theatre show with my father. The other relative is a friend of my grandmother. That is without a doubt the most bizarre coincidence of all. We ended up speaking for over an hour. We might have talked for even longer, had the faltering web connection not given a cue that it was probably time to sign off. It had been strange and exhilarating, and left me feeling almost giddy. An email arrived in my inbox shortly after with the subject “US!” and a photo that Danielle had taken of the video chat in action. “It’s so wonderful knowing you! I feel a bit like your big sister now :) Did you mention if you have older siblings or is it just the three of you? If you don’t have any older ones then I am applying for that spot. Let’s talk soon and often. xo Danielle/Dani” And I couldn’t agree more. So, what’s in a name? Nothing so profound. The similarities between us, numerous though they may be, are simply tied up in coincidence and the context in which our names were given. Still, it’s always wonderful to make a new friend and find a kindred spirit in a stranger. The name was just what led us there.
I am a long-time vegetarian. Danielle is a long-time vegan. We both own the complete works of Calvin and Hobbes.
94
Method of contact? Google search Success? Win Will you be staying in touch? Almost certainly What’s in a name? A new friend
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
25 / 153 dereks replied
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
Only 22 new babies were named Derek last year by parents in England and Wales. But internationally, Derek Tan turns out to be one of the most common names in oh comely’s editorial team. Derek “Des” Tan contacted 153 Derek Tans on Facebook. Here are the vital stats of the 25 who replied.
60%
live in Singapore,
16%
in Malaysia,
Method of contact? Facebook Will you be staying in touch? Maybe it will work out with #26 What’s in a name? A lot of other people.
12% live in Australia, two live in the United States of America, one lives in Hong Kong, and one lives in Canada.
48%
26.7
1 in 5
work in engineering or IT.
years old is the average age.
had rice dumplings for breakfast.
The youngest Derek Tan is 12 years old.
24 out of 25 Derek Tans did not have hot dogs and chocolate for breakfast.
20% are students. 12% are completing National Service in the Singaporean Army.
The oldest is 55 years old.
96
86%
said their mother was “quite pushy.”
71%
admitted that they have a little pot belly.
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
25 / 153 dereks replied
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
Only 22 new babies were named Derek last year by parents in England and Wales. But internationally, Derek Tan turns out to be one of the most common names in oh comely’s editorial team. Derek “Des” Tan contacted 153 Derek Tans on Facebook. Here are the vital stats of the 25 who replied.
60%
live in Singapore,
16%
in Malaysia,
Method of contact? Facebook Will you be staying in touch? Maybe it will work out with #26 What’s in a name? A lot of other people.
12% live in Australia, two live in the United States of America, one lives in Hong Kong, and one lives in Canada.
48%
26.7
1 in 5
work in engineering or IT.
years old is the average age.
had rice dumplings for breakfast.
The youngest Derek Tan is 12 years old.
24 out of 25 Derek Tans did not have hot dogs and chocolate for breakfast.
20% are students. 12% are completing National Service in the Singaporean Army.
The oldest is 55 years old.
96
86%
said their mother was “quite pushy.”
71%
admitted that they have a little pot belly.
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
I first encountered Olivia ‘Little Miss DJ’ Wilson when a good friend from university accidentally included her in a Facebook thread instead of me. They had been at school together, you see. Not that long afterwards, I googled myself as you do and Olivia was the top search result and on Facebook and on Twitter. She’d stolen all of the hits I wanted, and I momentarily felt a ridiculous desire to oust her from the top spot. We both grew up in small towns in the Home Counties and still happen to live relatively locally so she kindly agreed to meet up. It felt a bit like a platonic blind date, so in true date post-mortem style, here is what we both really thought of each other. Method of contact? Mutual Friend Success? Like a platonic blind date Will you be staying in touch? Hopefully What’s in a name? An afternoon of good conversation
olivia wilson on olivia ‘little miss dj’ wilson
olivia ‘little miss dj’ wilson on olivia wilson
What was your initial reaction about contacting your namesake? I was a little nervous, I’ll admit; she looked really cool perhaps a little intimidating even, in her photos and had an impressive online presence.
What was your initial reaction to being contacted by your namesake? How cool!
What did you talk about? We talked about nicknames; hers is Liv, while I am definitely a Livi; how we both find Olivia a little too reminiscent of being told off by our mothers and how mock outraged we are with the recent proliferation of little Olivias running around. There didn’t used to be any other Olivias when we were growing up and now it’s been in the top three baby names for two years running. Any strange similarities? Definitely: most affecting was that both our fathers passed away when we were growing up. To share an experience like that is unusual and definitely something you bond over.
Did you have any expectations? I was hoping we might get on, no clue though really. First impressions? Very pretty and quirky-looking. Did you find that you had things in common? In some ways we were similar, in some totally different, but she was a very likeable girl. Any strange similarities? That we had a mutual friend and that our dads both died when we were young. Did you see anything of yourself in her? Her creativity and happygo-lucky side.
Did anything surprise you? How truly lovely it was to spend time getting to know a stranger.
Did anything surprise you? The dad dying thing and just how many subjects we went over in such a short space of time.
Any awkward moments? Genuinely none, there weren’t even any real gaps in conversation, and I have good friends who that still happens with.
Any awkward moments? One or two tiny silences, but I literally find a breath of silence awkward even with my close family. I am annoying like that, I need to talk A LOT.
Would you introduce her to your friends? Bizarrely, she already knows some of them.
Would you introduce her to your friends? Ha, this sounds like a date. Yep I would, she’s cool.
Best thing about her? Aside from being really friendly, genuine and pretty, she’s fearless and I really admire that.
Best thing about her? Her laid-back approach to life while maintaining a professional attitude.
Would you meet again? I’d like that.
Would you meet again? Sure, why not?
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
I first encountered Olivia ‘Little Miss DJ’ Wilson when a good friend from university accidentally included her in a Facebook thread instead of me. They had been at school together, you see. Not that long afterwards, I googled myself as you do and Olivia was the top search result and on Facebook and on Twitter. She’d stolen all of the hits I wanted, and I momentarily felt a ridiculous desire to oust her from the top spot. We both grew up in small towns in the Home Counties and still happen to live relatively locally so she kindly agreed to meet up. It felt a bit like a platonic blind date, so in true date post-mortem style, here is what we both really thought of each other. Method of contact? Mutual Friend Success? Like a platonic blind date Will you be staying in touch? Hopefully What’s in a name? An afternoon of good conversation
olivia wilson on olivia ‘little miss dj’ wilson
olivia ‘little miss dj’ wilson on olivia wilson
What was your initial reaction about contacting your namesake? I was a little nervous, I’ll admit; she looked really cool perhaps a little intimidating even, in her photos and had an impressive online presence.
What was your initial reaction to being contacted by your namesake? How cool!
What did you talk about? We talked about nicknames; hers is Liv, while I am definitely a Livi; how we both find Olivia a little too reminiscent of being told off by our mothers and how mock outraged we are with the recent proliferation of little Olivias running around. There didn’t used to be any other Olivias when we were growing up and now it’s been in the top three baby names for two years running. Any strange similarities? Definitely: most affecting was that both our fathers passed away when we were growing up. To share an experience like that is unusual and definitely something you bond over.
Did you have any expectations? I was hoping we might get on, no clue though really. First impressions? Very pretty and quirky-looking. Did you find that you had things in common? In some ways we were similar, in some totally different, but she was a very likeable girl. Any strange similarities? That we had a mutual friend and that our dads both died when we were young. Did you see anything of yourself in her? Her creativity and happygo-lucky side.
Did anything surprise you? How truly lovely it was to spend time getting to know a stranger.
Did anything surprise you? The dad dying thing and just how many subjects we went over in such a short space of time.
Any awkward moments? Genuinely none, there weren’t even any real gaps in conversation, and I have good friends who that still happens with.
Any awkward moments? One or two tiny silences, but I literally find a breath of silence awkward even with my close family. I am annoying like that, I need to talk A LOT.
Would you introduce her to your friends? Bizarrely, she already knows some of them.
Would you introduce her to your friends? Ha, this sounds like a date. Yep I would, she’s cool.
Best thing about her? Aside from being really friendly, genuine and pretty, she’s fearless and I really admire that.
Best thing about her? Her laid-back approach to life while maintaining a professional attitude.
Would you meet again? I’d like that.
Would you meet again? Sure, why not?
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
Jane Austen’s heroine has been following me all my life. My name prompts exclamations of delight and “Did your parents name you after Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice?” Hardly. My mum had not yet read the book at the time. My dad had read it, but didn’t think to tell her. I don’t complain too much, because I had a lucky escape, actually: Wilma was another of my mum’s favourite girls’ names. Nonetheless, it is a truth universally acknowledged that sharing a name with one of the best-loved fictional characters of all time is unhelpful if you’re a writer. After my first foray into student journalism, I found that the editors of the newspaper were surprised to discover that I was even a real person. They had assumed that “Liz Bennett” was someone’s idea of a funny pseudonym. I decided to take the issue up with my nemesis herself. Who knows? Perhaps she’d relent and change her name to Elizabeth Jones. A meet-up in person wasn’t be possible, so we settled for Skype. This conversation is scripted, on Lizzie Bennet’s side, entirely out of quotes from Pride and Prejudice. Liz Bennett: Ahem; is this microphone on? Lizzie Bennet: I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here. Liz Bennett: I’m quite surprised myself that the connection’s working. Can I make a request? It’s nothing serious. I just wanted to know if there was any chance of you changing your name? Lizzie Bennet: I am excessively diverted. But it is so strange. Liz Bennett: I know, it sounds bizarre. Elizabeth Jones has a nice ring to it, though, don’t you think? Maybe you should consider a switch. Sleep on it. Lizzie Bennet: I make no promise of the kind. I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Liz Bennett: Sorry. It’s just that people always think I’m you. Wherever I go, you’re there ahead of me.
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
Lizzie Bennet: Allow me to say that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject. Liz Bennett: I think this is my fault for underestimating your stubbornness. You are Elizabeth Bennet, after all. Lizzie Bennet: I am not. Liz Bennett: Elizabeth Darcy? Right. I was too late anyway, then. The book’s already over... Lizzie Bennet: What is it you mean? Liz Bennett: Nothing important. How were things after you married Mr Darcy? I sometimes wondered. Lizzie Bennet: He has no improper pride; he is perfectly amiable. However, I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr Darcy. Liz Bennett: He was always going to be a difficult one. Well, thanks for letting me talk to you, and I hope I haven’t offended you with my request. Lizzie Bennet: There are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I dearly love a laugh. Liz Bennett: Thanks, Lizzie. You were the most fun of the Austen heroines. Lizzie Bennet: Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you. Method of contact? Skype Success? Indeed Will you be staying in touch? “They parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.” What’s in a name? Inconvenient associations
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
Jane Austen’s heroine has been following me all my life. My name prompts exclamations of delight and “Did your parents name you after Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice?” Hardly. My mum had not yet read the book at the time. My dad had read it, but didn’t think to tell her. I don’t complain too much, because I had a lucky escape, actually: Wilma was another of my mum’s favourite girls’ names. Nonetheless, it is a truth universally acknowledged that sharing a name with one of the best-loved fictional characters of all time is unhelpful if you’re a writer. After my first foray into student journalism, I found that the editors of the newspaper were surprised to discover that I was even a real person. They had assumed that “Liz Bennett” was someone’s idea of a funny pseudonym. I decided to take the issue up with my nemesis herself. Who knows? Perhaps she’d relent and change her name to Elizabeth Jones. A meet-up in person wasn’t be possible, so we settled for Skype. This conversation is scripted, on Lizzie Bennet’s side, entirely out of quotes from Pride and Prejudice. Liz Bennett: Ahem; is this microphone on? Lizzie Bennet: I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here. Liz Bennett: I’m quite surprised myself that the connection’s working. Can I make a request? It’s nothing serious. I just wanted to know if there was any chance of you changing your name? Lizzie Bennet: I am excessively diverted. But it is so strange. Liz Bennett: I know, it sounds bizarre. Elizabeth Jones has a nice ring to it, though, don’t you think? Maybe you should consider a switch. Sleep on it. Lizzie Bennet: I make no promise of the kind. I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Liz Bennett: Sorry. It’s just that people always think I’m you. Wherever I go, you’re there ahead of me.
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
Lizzie Bennet: Allow me to say that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject. Liz Bennett: I think this is my fault for underestimating your stubbornness. You are Elizabeth Bennet, after all. Lizzie Bennet: I am not. Liz Bennett: Elizabeth Darcy? Right. I was too late anyway, then. The book’s already over... Lizzie Bennet: What is it you mean? Liz Bennett: Nothing important. How were things after you married Mr Darcy? I sometimes wondered. Lizzie Bennet: He has no improper pride; he is perfectly amiable. However, I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr Darcy. Liz Bennett: He was always going to be a difficult one. Well, thanks for letting me talk to you, and I hope I haven’t offended you with my request. Lizzie Bennet: There are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I dearly love a laugh. Liz Bennett: Thanks, Lizzie. You were the most fun of the Austen heroines. Lizzie Bennet: Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you. Method of contact? Skype Success? Indeed Will you be staying in touch? “They parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.” What’s in a name? Inconvenient associations
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
Rosanna Durham is not me. We bumped into each other years ago. Our matchmaker was Google, who mistook us for the same person. The error was embarrassing; of course it was. Rosanna Durham, Rosanna Durham and Rosanna Durham lead such different lives, when Google put us together we became a nonsensical triplet. We compete for birthdays and death days, for personal histories and pets. Our online bio is a battleground. Combined, it reads something like this:
ping up as the first hit. ‘Love Me Don’t Hate Me Love U Lots’ said another photo.
Rosanna Durham was born on March 25th 1865. She lives in a mobile home valued at approximately $74,000 in Yakima, Washington, USA. Her telephone number is 590 505 5856. Rosanna has a complicated marital status. She is single but also happily married to Joseph Wood.
So I sent her a message: “Hi Rosanna Durham, I’m from the UK and live in London. We have the same name! I’ve never met anyone called me before and think that’s pretty cool. Could I ask you a few questions about the experience? Thanks, Rosanna Durham”
In January 24th 1924, Rosanna Durham died from an undisclosed illness. She is buried in Bethel Cemetery, Washington, and lives and works in London. She tweets under the name @RosannaLED. Facebook is another story. Here, there are just two of us. And out of 800 billion or so Facebook users, it’s a tense thing to share your name with just one other person. Particularly when that person is Rosanna Durham: an American teenager, a high school student, an Instagram-photographer extraordinaire and an outspoken lover of text speak. The other Rosanna Durham is the Rosanna Durham I’m not. When she started taking the top hit for our name, things got personal. A profile picture with ‘I <3 U’ written in big pink letters began pop-
Rosanna seemed nice enough, but her online presence brought back toe-curling memories of being a teenager. Ten or so years older, I was going through the process of ‘professionalising’ my Facebook profile. Keeping drunk photos away from work photos, that kind of thing.
No reply. Not even with the addition of ‘pretty cool’, a phrase I wrested out of my metaphorical pen in a bid to sound younger than almost thirty. I included an exclamation mark, for goodness sake. You can’t more friendly without being creepy. Still, after the message things changed. Rosanna added an extra ‘M’ to her Facebook name. “Rosanna Durhamm”. She took down all her profile pictures. An admittedly cute photo with her best friend, laid over with “Little Allstarzs & Baby Girl” in bright pink is gone. Did I scare her off? Method of contact? Facebook Success? Epic fail Will you be staying in touch? Doubtful What’s in a name? A potential restraining order
96
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
Rosanna Durham is not me. We bumped into each other years ago. Our matchmaker was Google, who mistook us for the same person. The error was embarrassing; of course it was. Rosanna Durham, Rosanna Durham and Rosanna Durham lead such different lives, when Google put us together we became a nonsensical triplet. We compete for birthdays and death days, for personal histories and pets. Our online bio is a battleground. Combined, it reads something like this:
ping up as the first hit. ‘Love Me Don’t Hate Me Love U Lots’ said another photo.
Rosanna Durham was born on March 25th 1865. She lives in a mobile home valued at approximately $74,000 in Yakima, Washington, USA. Her telephone number is 590 505 5856. Rosanna has a complicated marital status. She is single but also happily married to Joseph Wood.
So I sent her a message: “Hi Rosanna Durham, I’m from the UK and live in London. We have the same name! I’ve never met anyone called me before and think that’s pretty cool. Could I ask you a few questions about the experience? Thanks, Rosanna Durham”
In January 24th 1924, Rosanna Durham died from an undisclosed illness. She is buried in Bethel Cemetery, Washington, and lives and works in London. She tweets under the name @RosannaLED. Facebook is another story. Here, there are just two of us. And out of 800 billion or so Facebook users, it’s a tense thing to share your name with just one other person. Particularly when that person is Rosanna Durham: an American teenager, a high school student, an Instagram-photographer extraordinaire and an outspoken lover of text speak. The other Rosanna Durham is the Rosanna Durham I’m not. When she started taking the top hit for our name, things got personal. A profile picture with ‘I <3 U’ written in big pink letters began pop-
Rosanna seemed nice enough, but her online presence brought back toe-curling memories of being a teenager. Ten or so years older, I was going through the process of ‘professionalising’ my Facebook profile. Keeping drunk photos away from work photos, that kind of thing.
No reply. Not even with the addition of ‘pretty cool’, a phrase I wrested out of my metaphorical pen in a bid to sound younger than almost thirty. I included an exclamation mark, for goodness sake. You can’t more friendly without being creepy. Still, after the message things changed. Rosanna added an extra ‘M’ to her Facebook name. “Rosanna Durhamm”. She took down all her profile pictures. An admittedly cute photo with her best friend, laid over with “Little Allstarzs & Baby Girl” in bright pink is gone. Did I scare her off? Method of contact? Facebook Success? Epic fail Will you be staying in touch? Doubtful What’s in a name? A potential restraining order
96
97