Kieran. My name means little, dark one. Supposedly, my parents had a book of Irish names for boys. They kept saying, Love, Michael, Aileen, Liam, and… and filled in a name to hear how it flowed.

Love, Michael, Aileen, Liam, and Sean? No.

Love, Michael, Aileen, Liam, and Aiden? Nope.

Love, Michael, Aileen, Liam, and Rory? Ugh.

They say Kieran fit the phrase beautifully and kept the pattern with “i” as the second letter.

I don’t think my parents took into consideration the following things before choosing this name for me:

First, it’s also a girl’s name. I cannot tell you how many times someone has said “she” before they saw me. Or, they just hear the name “Karen.” Not happy about that.

Second, I can never find my name on a license plate rack. Ever. Sure, one time when my mom’s friend visited Ireland she took pictures of the town of Kieran and that was cool. But seriously.  No pencils ever have Kieran on them.

Third, little, dark one? Me? Well, maybe it fits a bit, but I would really like to have been a John. Or Jon. Kieran is a bit too unique for me. It draws too much attention to my name and, by association, me.

John, now there’s a name you could blend in with. In elementary, there would be a John B., a John M., a Johnny, and any time the teacher called on John, one of the others would have surely spoken up.

So much less pressure being a John than a Kieran.


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