Andy Purman’s Pity Party

Dear Pity Party,

My wife is pregnant with our first son, but we just can’t seem to agree on what to name him! I’m tired of all the arguing. She wants to name him Nigel, after her late father, but I am reluctant to use this name in case I love my son.

What do we do??
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-Nigel


Dear He-Who,

First of all, congratulations to you and your wife! I, too, was once an expectant father, until I learned that my fiancée was actually carrying the seed of my step-father, Harry. This news was only momentarily surprising, since we had only had sex once — many months before discovering her pregnancy — and both of us had failed to achieve climax. It turns out that I am actually sterile, a fact that my ex-fiancée reminds me of literally every time I visit her and Harry.

While I did not help name my would-be son (Spencer, that little bitch), I understand the importance of choosing a great name for your child. You see, my birth name is actually Sue. As was the case with the character in the famous Shel Silverstein song, “A Boy Named Sue,” my father chose the name because he intended to become an alcoholic drifter and dead-beat dad, and wanted me “to grow up tough.” Only the first half of his intentions came true: at the end of every gym class in high school, my face was covered with my own tears and at least one set of balls, sometimes even the gym teacher’s. I eventually had to legally change my name because the bullying was so severe. Even the freshmen would shout “Sue-ck my balls!” at me, or call me a “Daddy-less faggot.”

I still temporarily lose control of my urethral sphincter when I hear that song.

Luckily, I always have my dog, Gandhi, for love and support. What’s more, I got to name him myself: I chose the name because Mahatma Gandhi’s messages of love and peaceful resistance inspire and comfort me. Technically, my dog’s official name is Sir Francis Edward Younghusband because the breeder enforced a tradition of naming her puppies after British imperialists — the irony of which is not lost on me — but the only time I have to remember that is when I bring Gandhi to the vet to treat his chronic anal sac infections.

My point, I think, is that your child will carry on your legacy not only through his inherited surname, but also through the name by which his closest friends will remember him. Who is it that inspires you? Who embodies the values that you want associated with your bloodline? Perhaps it is another family member, a historical figure you greatly respect, or a celebrity.

All the best,
Andy Purman

EDIT: Just heard screeching tires and screams coming from outside. Went out to make sure Gandhi is okay. He’s not. He’s dead.

 

Need advice? Join the Pity Party by emailing [email protected] I’ll do my best to help!*

*DO NOT INCLUDE PICTURES. I CLICKED ON A PICTURE OF A “MISSING DOG” LAST TIME AND SOMEONE STARTED POSTING MY JOURNAL ENTRIES ON TUMBLR. I WILL NOT BE SWINDLED AGAIN.