Lauren: Once, when I was slightly inebriated I treated my boy to a bit of freestyle rap whilst we lay in bed.
Don’t ask me why – the drunken mind works in mysterious ways. I should also point out here that I was banned from joining the school choir not once, not twice, but three times! I don’t remember the exact lyrics to my rap (I think my conscious mind has chosen to block out the cringeworthy experience) but I’m told that somewhere in there was the line ‘white stilettos in the ghettos’ – note to self: don’t give up the day job.
The finishing touch to my musical masterpiece was… wait for it…’Yo coconut’.
And that has been the boy’s pet name for me ever since.
It’s…um…unusual. One of a kind you might say.
Names are a funny thing aren’t they. They define you as a person, your identity and your interactions with your nearest and not so dearest.
I was named after Lauren Bacall – named after her by my mum in the hope that I would inherit some of her no-nonsense attitude with regards to men. You’ll have to ask my boy but I think Ms Bacall’s feistiness has rubbed off on me just a little bit…
You might be wondering where this is all leading to.
Let me explain.
Whilst Charlotte, Adam and I battled with constructing flat-pack furniture at RMW HQ this week, I started to talk about names – impending nuptials do that to you – and I mentioned that I don’t actually like being called Lauren.
It’s not the name so much, it’s the formality of it. In fact, it makes me feel like I’m being told off by my mum. Adam actually prefers Lauren but I’ve always been more of a “Lolly” or “Lol” and that’s only the start of the proliferation of names that I seemed to have acquired over the years.
My nickname differs depending on who I’m with at the time; with friends I am anything from “Polly” all the way through to the more generic “Man”. My parents call me “Looby Lou”, “Lou Bear” or “La La”. I’m Lula to one sister, to the other I’m Sparkle, Tina Sparkle, due to my love of all things shiny and my similarities with that Strictly Ballroom dancer.
And whilst Yo Coconut is the boy’s top term of endearment he also resorts to the equally flattering “Hammy” (due to my hamsterish cheeks), “Tubbs”, “Shorty” or his recent favourite “FiFi” as a result of our newly engaged status.
I am slightly miffed that I didn’t get a middle name but with a surname like mine, it might have been slightly ridiculous. That said, my mum did toy with the idea of giving me Eve as a second name but that would have meant that my initials would have been LEGO.
I think it would have been immense. She didn’t.
Shame really, I could really have had fun with that…
Charlotte: I used to hate the name Charlotte – with a fierce passion. I wanted to be called Debbie for a long while (I think there was a Debbie on Blue Peter? or maybe in the Broom Cupboard with Andi Peters?!) and then Charlene….because it wasn’t that dissimilar to Charlotte and Kylie was my idol (It was the denim dungerees and the fact I fancied Jason Donovan…Shhh don’t tell anyone.)
At school I was Charlie for a while, not sure why – I never thought it really suited me to be honest, I simply wasn’t cool enough. One of my best friends Paul used to call me Scarlett (sometimes extended to Scarlett The Harlot…) and my Nana Lily has always called Charles. Yes as in the boys name.
At the grand old age of 17 I thought I had royally flunked my mock A-levels and arrived at my part-time job at Morgan (retail – a concession that sold various stretchy lycra and animal print numbers in House Of Fraser)…. pale faced and on the brink of tears. My then store manager Scott (he who wore more bronzer than Dale Winton) exclaimed in an optimistic chime “Daaarling it will be absolutely fine! look at your long blonde hair and generous chest! You could be a Playboy Bunny instead of going to University!”
(I think he meant well bless him.)
As a direct result my nickname was simply “Bunny”, in fact one of my favourite girls Maria still refers to me as the Bunny Girl or the alternative version of “Miss B” to this day.
When I first met my husband he always referred to me as “Perfect Girl” (Yeah I know – try living up to that) and then when he realised I wasn’t perfect (this didn’t take long obviously!) I became “little one” due to barely reaching his shoulders unless I wore killer heels.
A few years ago I ordered these seemingly amazing hair combs off of some American website, they promised to give you an extra huge beehive with literally no backcombing…. I know! Awesome!
Only they weren’t awesome at all, they were pants. They just looked like weird big cheap plastic tufts sticking out vertically from my purple-hued bonce.
James thought this was all kinds of hilarious, and upon trying to convince him (and myself) that they did indeed provide some sort of bouffant action I swiftly became known as “Bouffy” which then slowly evolved into “Bufty”…..and stands at this current moment as “My little Bufty Wife”.
He assures me this is a term of endearment – I’m not entirely convinced.
As it happens I no longer dislike my christian name, in fact I really quite like it. And I think I like it all the more now it is paired with my new found surname
Big Bunny Girl Love
Charlotte (Bufty) O’Shea xxx
Adam: I never really had any nicknames when I was younger – Adam sometimes would be shortened to Ad. That’s about as crazy as it got. At my Highschool where the boys were called exclusively by their surname, Crohill would on occasion become Crowbar or Crowsplat.
At my previous job there was one guy that had about a million nicknames for everyone. To him I was Adsy, Adamski, ‘The A – Man’. Occasionally ‘The A Hole’ (if I’d annoyed him) and he even used to call me Vicro which originated from the number plate that I had on my Mini Cooper at the time.
It’s funny how your perception of names changes over time. I have a middle name that I used to keep firmly under wraps because I thought if it got out into the public domain then that would be how I’d be known from that day forth. Frank.
I must admit, at the grand old age of 31 I can firmly say that I love the name Frank now, it’s really cool and I wouldn’t actually mind at all if it was my first name. I was named Frank after my Granddad and that in its self is a total honour, but as a youngster I thought people would laugh at me if they found out. Strange that.
I am also pretty happy to be called Adam. I can’t really imagine being called anything else… it is strange to think that your parents are responsible for giving you this handle… this ‘identity’ but I think mine did pretty well. Thanks Mum and Dad
So – anyone want to share any nicknames, middle names or the name they wished they’d been given?
Please drop us a comment in the box below
Adam Frank Crohill.