Apparently, A LOT if you are seventeen years old and trying to meet some boys on the beach.
My name is Lori, and that is a fine, lovely, 70’s name. I like that I am a L-O-R-I not a L-A-U-R-I-E or God forbid a
L-O-R-I-E. Whew, I hit the Lori jackpot in that regard.
But again, at seventeen, Lori was not a cool enough persona to be attracting the boys, especially the older boys. I needed a new identity if I was going to nab myself a new boyfriend.
So I did what any normal teenager would do - I started telling boys that I met that my name was Bianca.
Of course I loved the name because of Bianca Jagger who I simultaneously worshipped and was insanely jealous of because she was married to my man, Mick.
I was always obsessed with Bianca Jagger and the name Bianca. So growing up, I had a Barbie named Bianca, a hermit crab named Bianca, a fake sister named Bianca, and now, I had morphed into Bianca. A natural transition, don’t you think? Barbie/hermit crab/fake sister/self?
My new name and personality worked great – it was a great lead in, boys dug it - “Wow, Bianca, that’s a pretty name.” My new name was pretty so I was pretty too!
|Bianca, ready for a night on the town.|
Yes, I was visiting from “across the pond” and was here on “holiday.”
Of course I was handing out Bianca’s phone number left and right, to anyone that would have it. When gentleman callers would ring me up at home and my parents would answer, they were in on the game.
“Bianca, telephone”, they would scream up the stairs to me.
My parents were pretty awesome sometimes.
My main worry, besides the whole lying about who I was thing, was my friends slipping up. Susanne and Jocelyn did awesome for the most part, but would understandably sometimes and call me Lori by mistake.
|British Bianca & surfer friend.|
“Lori…I thought your name was Bianca”, the cute blond with the surfboard would say.
“Um, yeah, sometimes I go by Lori”, I’d respond, in a nervous English accent.
They usually were pretty disenchanted at that point, but not disenchanted enough to quit making out with me.
Bianca made her mark on Clearwater Beach for a while, but then I realized I had to go back to just being Lori. As with any lie, it was just too exhausting to keep it up. But it was fun to pretend to be someone else.
|I'm pretty sure Bianca made out with this waiter.|
I mean, what was I going to do when I met the man of my dreams, and he thought he was with British Bianca, and he had already introduced me to his parents as Bianca, and nicknamed me “Sweet B”? What then? He would have to see my birth certificate eventually when we went to apply for our marriage license, right?
My family got a cat and it was a boy. No one in the family would allow me to name it Bianca.
I always swore if I had a little girl I would name her Bianca. I have two boys.
Again, bye-bye Sweet B.
Maybe on our next girls night I’ll let my friends know I’ll be bringing along a friend. A friend with a really cool name and a bad cockney accent. Should make for an interesting night.