Legally, my name is Timothy. Ask Jenny and she’ll tell you she prefers to call me Timmy. I’ve always been a Timmy to her. Although we now refer to each other as Bee, Boot, or other cutesy vomit-inducing pet names, in her eyes I’ll always look like a Timmy and not a Timothy.
Ask others, I’m anything but a Timmy. Timmys are young and vibrant. They have just discovered their penises and still ask their moms to help them clean their butts. Timothys, on the other hand, are bitter and often get constipated.
I recently started a new job where they actually call me Timothy. It’s weird. I know it’s my name. But with only a few exceptions in my life, like on the first day of school before they say “Can I call you Tim?” I’ve never gone by my official name.
Timothy isn’t a popular full name Tims go by. Michaels will refrain from going to Mike a lot more often. Davids will also stay away from Dave. It’s Timothys, Matthews, Theodores, and others who are in a club where we appreciate a shortened version of our name a lot more.
Each time my boss calls me Timothy, I feel like I am dressed in appropriately. Timothy should wear sweaters, loafers, and glasses. They look like complete nerds.
There’s nothing wrong with being a Timothy. Look at Timothy Olyphant. Other than having the motivation to stay thin because of his last name’s similarity to a large animal, he’s had a nice life. Actor Timothy Busfeld also learned a valuable lesson in Field of Dreams after his niece almost choke on a wiener. Then there’s Timothy McVeigh whom us Tims have banned from our club. The Donalds can have him.
Whenever I’m called Timothy, I feel like I did something wrong. I know it’s more professional sounding. I also understand we can’t always get what we want in life. Much like when a woman shops for a tampon, all I want is a name that fits.
In one part of my life, I’m a Timmy. I come home and I can be the goofball Timmy that Jenny adores. At work, I’m the strict by-the-book Timothy whose sense of humor doesn’t go beyond a cleverly worded pun he read in a newspaper.
I understand I’m getting older. I’ve known this for a while now. The scariest part is, Timothy isn’t the only serious personality I have left. Tim is also watching out for everyone’s feelings.
Many who know me by Tim would also be surprised by how many times I use the word “fart” in a day. At some point, I could no longer be the fun-loving person Jenny gets to see.
Thankfully, I still get to be Timmy with her and not that stuffy Timothy everyone else in the real world likely gets to see.