Say My Name
The internet tells me that my name is unique. There’s approximately five other people in the entire world that say and spell their name like I do (and zero pencils, mugs, or other gift shop paraphernalia that exists with my name on it). I’ve met other Corrin’s, but they’re always taking away an -r or adding a damn -e (or both – xoxo Complicated Mama), and generally making my life difficult.
Like when a sweet older lady working the register in Walmart tried to compliment me on my name.
“Corrine, such a pretty name.”
“Thank you, but it’s actually Corrin.”
“No, it’s right here on your license. It says Corrine.”
“There’s no -e. It’s pronounced Corrin.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.”
I actually went by the nickname Corrie up until college – by then it wasn’t worth the effort of stating my preference in a lecture hall of 200 students. I even have two distinct group of friends – pre-college friends that call me Corrie and post-college friends that call me Corrin. They each think the other is weird.
Then there’s the issue of the actual pronunciation of my name. When I introduce myself, my name comes out of my own mouth sounding like Curren. Admittedly, I talk fast and I have a bit of a Chicago-ish accent, so introductions are usually followed by confused looks. Karen? Connie? When I’m asked to clarify the pronunciation of my name, I slow down and say CORrin and they usually get it.
Until the next email I receive is addressed to Corrine.
Edited: I made a little Corrin 101 video. I’m more confused than ever.