There are only two people in the world that call me “David”. One is named “Mom” and the other is named “Dad”. Somehow, to everyone else I’ve always been a “Dave”.

Granted, when I was younger, teachers usually called me “David” or “Mr. Kleeman”… I have one of those last names that always goes with a Mr. in front of it, it would seem. Even the teachers, though, were not guaranteed, and many of them took to calling me Dave.

My friends call me Dave, my co-workers call me Dave, my boss calls me Dave, even telemarketers call me Dave.

I’m not sure how it happens, I introduce myself in equal parts David and Dave… David usually with the last name, Dave usually with just the first. It doesn’t matter, though, I’ll be Dave in mere seconds. “Nice to meet you, my name is David Kleeman.” “Hi Dave!”

In talking to some friends, what our parents almost named us came up. I was to be either a Peter or a Steven, if it wasn’t David. For everyone else, their alternate names seemed to work, but for me, it was only Dave. Not sure why that is… and what if I had been born a girl?

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