Quinn has been interested lately in names and nicknames and first names and last names. His status quo is to call me by my first name, but he says my nickname is “mom,” and he knows we all have the same last name. He’s very curious about names and their various permutations.
Today I decided to switch it up on him and instead of telling him that my nickname is “mom,” I told him that it is “Stimey.”
To which he replied: “Slimy? Because you’re slimy?” And then he spent the rest of the afternoon calling me Slimy.
I immediately tweeted about it and got some responses from some of you curious as to why my nickname is Stimey.
Well, the story of Stimey is also the story of the two years I lived in LA whilst attending USC for graduate school. I made a friend there who became my best friend, and who promptly dumped me when I moved back to northern California to be with Alex. Like seriously dumped. I would email and write letters and he never returned any of my messages. It was a little tragic.
At some point he asked if I had ever had a nickname. I hadn’t because there are not many good nicknames you can make out of my first name. He said I needed a nickname and out of nowhere he said, “I will call you Stimey.” And that is the story of Stimey. It was a lovely private thing between the two of us when we were friends, but since I was unceremoniously dumped, I decided to take the nickame back. And now it’s mine.
And that is the story of Stimey.