Say My Name

December 6, 2011


People have requested to know a little bit more about the love I often allude to in this blog.   A name, for instance would be a start, some have said.  But I’m afraid that this would be impossible.  He hasn’t asked for this kind of publicity see, and I want to protect his name.  Keep it something powerful that I whisper lovingly (or scream passionately) between the sheets, as it were.  I could come up with a pseudonym, of course.  But I hope my readers will understand that I live in a world of mirages really.  I don’t actually know the real name of most of the people that I spend the most time with each week, my colleagues.  And many others who come in and share (or at least they think that they’re sharing it) something that should be fairly intimate, I have only a first name to go by and sometimes wonder if even that is real.  Many of my ‘friendships’ at work are illusions and many of the stories that I tell about ‘my real life’ are embellished or twisted at the club to either seduce people or keep the real me hidden.  It is important that this person who is my best friend, often my sanity and who supports me whole heartedly in my life no matter where I choose to go, even after reading much of this blog, remain very tangibly real to me.  Even here.

A pseudonym creates a lot of confusion you see.  I, for instance, go by something like five different names.  There is the name that I go by at home with my parents and then there is the name that my friends here in New York call me, which happens to be a different abbreviation of my full name, which only another select professional world of people use.  Then there is the pen identity that I use here to cover my stage identity, which I use to cover my real identity.  All of this is basically because I am an extremely private person.  But it is also to protect my safety, my family, my friends and my ‘boyfriend,’ who mostly do not appear in this blog out of my deep respect for them and the fact that none of them have chosen to live this life.

Unfortunately, all these names do sometimes stunt me in public.  For instance if I ever actually get to go out outside of work, I may be introduced to an intriguing stranger.  Imagine my embarrassment then when it looks like I don’t know my own name, as my first instinct is to say Jooni (or my stage name), and I then have to stop myself with a stutter and actually think about where I am and what I am called there.  To the intriguing stranger, or business contact, or friend of a friend, I just look so stupid that I can’t remember my name.  The fact is I introduce or refer to myself most often with my stage name these days and that can be a little disconcerting.   I’m hoping that it doesn’t develop into a full blown case of schizophrenia anytime soon, but will try in earnest to write as much as I can before it does to satisfy (and hopefully entertain) your curiosity.  My apologies at this exclusion from the usually so graphic and all-inclusive accounts of my world, dear reader.  Though I promise if you should ever see me on the street and yell “Jooni,” I will most assuredly turn and look earnestly for who has recognized me (shockingly) just from a picture of my legs.  ;)

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