Mistaken Identity
When I agreed to marry hubby, many moons ago, my biggest concern was taking on his surname. Now I wasn’t a new-age feminist type who didn’t want to be owned by my husband, which is in effect what marriage still is – brides are “given away” by their father to their husbands. The husbands then basically brand their bride with their surname, because ownership has changed, pretty much like selling a car and we just make it all sentimental at the wedding to gloss over this small transaction that is taking place due to some stupid ancient law. Anyway I was well aware that my ownership was changing and this didn’t really bother me because seriously, if you’ve ever met me, you’ll know that nobody has and ever will own me! But I really liked my old surname and I often joked about changing from a surname with 2 entries in the telephone directory to a surname that boasted nearly 30 pages of Walkers. So the day I said “I do” I became a little bit more common but as I said, this had never really bothered me. Until now.
A few weeks ago I was introduced to another lecturer at the College where I lecture. She looked very nice and smiled as you do when you are introduced to someone new, but I could see that her smile froze slightly and she looked away too quickly when she heard my name. It seemed to have shocked her, like my reputation had preceded me (and not in a good way). Anyway she went her way and I went mine but she was never very friendly in our subsequent meetings. Today I found out why.
Apparently this lecturer’s children go to the nearby private boy’s school where a scandal has erupted. A 40-something “drop-dead-gorgeous” divorced mother of one of the boys at the same school is at the centre of the controversy. What is her claim to fame? Well she is a “nobody” as this lecturer was quick to point out (I’m assuming in a back-handed way that that means I’m a “somebody”) but this divorcee has apparently started an affair with a 15 year old boy who attends the same private boys school as her son (and my colleague’s children), in fact her son and this boy are in the same year.
Apparently the lovebirds met at the local gym and it was love at first sight (as it is with a 15 year old pimply boy who only hit puberty a year or so before). The low down gossip (undoubtedly true if you heard it in the car park at the school) is that she is insatiable and their “relationship” had gone on for quite a while before he inevitably bragged to a friend that all his birthdays had come at once (pardon the double pun). The parents of the obviously devastated (to have been found out) teen, have laid a charge of statutory rape against the divorcee and removed their child from the school (and gym, hopefully) in a weak attempt to lessen the scandal surrounding him. Restraining orders have been filed and emotions are understandably high.
I must add here that I think this woman is obviously sick and needs a trip to the local nut-house, because the boy is 15! This, in my opinion is paedophilia, but what is worse is that she has manipulated the young boy’s mind so he thinks he’s in love and his lover is being victimized by his parents and society. If that was my son, I would follow the same route as these poor parents, which isn’t exactly satisfying, the damage is done.
Now you are probably asking what any of this has got to do with me and the answer is, absolutely nothing, apart from the fact that I unfortunately share the same name as this lady (I use the term lady very loosely) so my colleague assumed that I was into young boys and she didn’t quite know how to deal with me working with her! I can understand her confusion as I definitely fit the description of a dark-haired, olive-complexioned, drop-dead gorgeous, gym- fanatic nymphomaniac paedophile (she did get the drop-dead gorgeous right – let’s give credit where credit is due). She did have the decency to come and tell me when she realized her error so I could stop wondering if my deodorant was malfunctioning.
So this got me thinking that maybe I should change to a double-barrel surname like my Facebook name or maybe use my second name joined to my surname and sound a bit more exotic. Apparently all I have to do is go to Home Affairs and …… okay that’s already raising the “too much effort” red flag [sigh] I’ll just have to keep my common, tainted name and hold my head up high.
One thing is for sure, my life is never dull. Sometimes make-believe it seems, but never dull!