There are only two ways my name can go…

And I say two because the third - ”Jessie” or “Jesse” is not an option.

One of my ex’s…the one who didn’t do shit with the pet sitting business…that was his name.

And I’ll be damned if I have to be called a name with such a negative connotation that it immediately makes me want to hit something…with a sledge hammer…until I render it unrecognizable. I like to avoid such scenarios, if you know what I’m saying.

Throughout my entire life until like, 8th grade….everyone called me “Jessica.”

Then, something changed during the summer before I started high school. I guess “Jessica” wasn’t cool enough to say anymore…or it took to long to get out those three LONG ASS SYLLABLES…

I became “Jess” to my friends and to those people who were not my friends but knew me because I was “that freshman” starting on the Varsity basketball team…while teachers and those at least 5 years older than me still called me Jessica.

I liked Jess. Jess was new and different and (fine, I’ll admit it) a hell of a lot easier to say.

And I was tired of people getting all lazy calling me Jes-ka…instead of Jes-sic-a.

I was Jess through college…where EVERYONE…all the way up to the Deans…called me Jess. The only time I was Jessica was to my mom  (who never caught on to the whole “Jess” thing. She was still gunning for Juice or Jessie-Mike…and…no. Just…no).

Then I got out of college.

And I wanted a change.

Jess sounded too…childish…too immature. She sounded like someone who didn’t know her ass from her forehead and liked to party…hardcore party…the kind where you wake up in a location you don’t even remember going to…

I never  partied.

And I never got confused…I always knew where my ass was…even though some thought otherwise.

I wanted to be Jessica again.

Jessica had her shit together.

So, when I met Tim, that’s what I called myself…that’s how I introduced myself…that’s how I signed my damn name.

And from the SECOND I MET HIM…

He called me Jess.

WHAT. THE. HELL.

Now, that wouldn’t have been such an issue had he reserved “Jess” for only the most private of places where names like Sugar Lump or Honey Nuts are acceptable and even deemed cute…because no one else hears…Jess could have been like, a pet name or something.

Well, we won’t even go down that imaginary road, cause he told his parents…and his co-workers…and the guy at the checkout line at the grocery store…

And I was all, ”JESSICA. I WANT TO BE CALLED JESSICA!”

So, he tried…or, at least he said he tried…though the damage had already been done. No one wanted to have to change and say “Jessica” when “Jess” was so much easier…

Yesterday at his work thing, one of his co-workers was all, “So, Jess…”

Then another one…”Hey! Jess!…” And another….”Oh, Jess…did you know…”

And these are people I have never actually had a real conversation with.

Yet, Jess came out of their mouth like we’d known each other for like, EVER.

On the way home, I was all, “I thought you were trying to say Jessica now…”

Tim: “I AM. It’s HARD.”

Me: “Well, everyone called me JESS today…did you notice that? EVERYONE.”

Tim: “What? Nooo…you just didn’t hear them correctly….”

Me: “Oh, I heard them…heard them leave out two whole syllables.”

Tim: “I mean, saying Jessica sounds like you’re in trouble or something…”

Me: ….

Tim: “It’s TOO HARD! What’s wrong with Jess, anyway?

Me: Jess is that girl who doesn’t apply herself and makes her living by mooching off other people…and doesn’t shower…unless absolutely necessary.

Tim: Well, then I guess…

Me: Don’t EVEN go there…unless you want to live in the seventh circle of hell for the next month.

Tim: …I guess Jess cleaned up and got her act together…is what I WAS GOING TO SAY.

Me: Riight…and my name’s Jessica.

***FOOTNOTE***

Tim read this right before it was published…and he said he was going to put out a memo at work…deeming “Jess” unacceptable because it would result in his sleeping on the couch…and the next employee who said it would have to write “My boss’s wife’s name is Jessica” five thousand times on the whiteboard in his office…and I think I just fucked up at least seven apostrophes…plural…not plural…possessive…what the hell…as long as it says “Jessica” I don’t really give a damn.

***FOOTNOTE # 2***

I realize there are not even seven apostrophes in the aforementioned footnote. It’s called exaggeration. AND I know some of you call me Jess. That is fine. I will not come at you with a sledge hammer.