Something about names

There's something about names. Our name is one of our most personal traits. Unlike our iris, or fingerprint, our DNA, names are not unique (or are seldom unique). But we are given one name when we are born, sometimes even when we are still warm into our mother's womb, and that name remains with us until the end of our lives, and even after that, engraved in our tombstone, collecting dust in the mementos of the life we've left behind. We are identified by our name. We are called by our name. And yet sometimes our very name is rather impersonal. It mignt be just my own perception mistake, of course, but the people that are close to us tend never to call us by our own name - and when they do, then it's because there's something amiss. Our mothers don't call us by the name, not often at least - "my son", "my daughter", "my child" are expressions more common for them to address us, our name being replaced by our status. Our lovers don't call us by the name, but by some affectionate word - love, hun, darling, dear, or some private nickname like cookie, for example, you chose - and seldom, if ever, by our personal name. Not meaning this as a joke, but if our beloved called us by our name and not by some nickname, yelling our name while fucking wouldn't be such a turn-on.