In season six of Sex and the City, Smith Jerrod, Stanford and Stanford's boyfriend Marcus posed for a picture while dining out in the city one night. Because Smith Jerrod was a famous actor and Marcus was a famous Broadway dancer and Stanford was just a regular human person, when the aforementioned photograph found its way onto the pages of a gossip rag some days later the caption read "Smith Jerrod cozies up to Broadway dancer Marcus Adant and unidentified older gay gentleman."
"...unidentified older gay gentleman."
Poor regular, human Stanny.
I referenced that particular episode of Sex and the City because I attended an event with a well-known politician friend of mine recently and, like the men of Sex and the City, our pic found its way into a local gossip column.
And I, like poor, old Stanford Blatch, fell victim to total misidentification.
Those fools left a letter out of my name. An entire letter. The whole thing. The entire fourth letter of my first name. And the 'e' nonetheless. The 'e' that fits so perfectly between the 'r' and the 'y'. The 'e' that swoops and curls so nicely with a pen. The 'e' with the most tiles in Scrabble. And the most letters in 'pee'. But you know what, I'm not upset. No, not I. Because it's a totally acceptable mistake. I mean, honestly, how in the world could they have known that I, a regular human person, spelled my name with an 'e'? What's that you say? I could have worn identification of some sort, identification containing the complete and proper spelling of my first name?Goddammit, why did I not do that thing? Why?!? Wait, what's that you say?
I did do that thing.
Well, I guess it could've been worse. Actually, I'm pretty darn lucky that the caption didn't read "Bevan Dufty and some gay dude's gigantic right ear."