There's Only Ever One Bonnie

A couple months back I was auditioning for The Cover of Life. It seemed half the women there shared a name. There were Sarahs, and Michelles, and probably a few more I can't remember now. There were enough that when it got to my turn to introduce myself, someone asked "So where's the other Bonnie?"

I quickly corrected her. "There's only ever one Bonnie." And it's true.

When I was little, I was sometimes jealous of the Melissas and Jessicas. It was like they were born into a special club. Like Heathers the movie, only without the suicide-murder-cover-up. The closest I ever came to a name buddy was a brief friendship with a new girl named Julie Maxwell. We were dubbed Cain's Coffee and Maxwell House, which is really not too bad when it comes to name mocking.

By high school I realized how convenient it is to be the only one in a class of 600 with your name. It actually simplifies a lot. When you are talking about Bonnie, it's me, always me.

I have met a few Bonnies, mostly grandmas. But I've never really known another Bonnie. I occassionally have people tell me they know another Bonnie, but our paths never seem to cross. Honestly, I prefer it that way. Once, a Bonnie applied for a job in our office. I told HR they absolutely were not allowed to hire her, because There's Only Ever One Bonnie.