You can make up pseudonyms, like if people know you as Catherine in some circumstances, and Katie in others, and still Kate, in some, could substitute Elizabeth, Lizzie and Liza. I’m going to use my real names.
If you know me as Rivkah Chaya, you have known me since I was very little.
If you know me as Rivkele, you are in my aunt’s family, including extended family.
If you know me as Rifkie, you are from my mother’s side of the family.
If you know me as just Rivkah, you know me from public grade school or intermediate school, or somewhere after high school not otherwise specified.
If you know me as Rebecca you know me from high school.
If you know me as R-I-V, you know me from Gallaudet, or the Deaf community.
If you know me as Goldhammer, you know me from the military.
If you know me as RivkahChaya (no space) you know me from the internet.
If you know me as Mrs. Mac, you know my husband, but not me.
If you know me as Mrs. Maccaby, you are one of my son’s friends.
If you know me as Miss Rivkah, you are one of the kids in the preschool where I currently work.
If you know me as Deborah Hammer Cohen Cohen C, then you were my cable company when my roommate, Deborah A Cohen and I tried to get the bill in both our names, so we’d both have credit with the company when one of us moved out.
I’m Gwen to almost everyone.
I’m Gwendolen to my father since he picked the name, and to one co-worker who for whatever reason says the whole thing.
I’m “Gwendolen MI1 MI2 Lastname” to my closest friend when I call and he is identifying me.
To my Mom I was Honus or Honus Balonus, informal and formal versions of Honey.
Everyone who knows me calls me Kurt. Just Kurt. I have no nicknames, aliases, handles, or former names. Kurt doesn’t really lend itself to diminutives. Sometimes my brother calls me Kurtis to annoy me. My name is not Kurtis (A former coworker joked that Kurt wasn’t just my name; it was my attitude. The joke would’ve worked better if I spelled my name Curt, but that’s an abomination.)
Here, obviously, I go by Bayard. And my kids call me Daddy. My son is starting to grow out of Daddy and call me just Dad.
“James” to the extended family as my family used my full name when I was growing up.
“Jim” to everyone else,
except “Ji-mu” to Japanese speakers
爸爸 “baba” or father in Chinese パパ “papa” father in Japanese Bayaa-san by people I knew on my mission.
“Teacher Jim” now here in Taiwan.
“Beta-chan’s dad” to her friends. Similar for my son’s friends.
And my personal favorite Daddy.
As a kid, I went by Mickey or Mickie.
After I joined the Navy, I dated a guy who didn’t like nicknames and insisted on calling me Michelle - I’ve used that ever since 1973, tho one sister and one old high school friend still call me Mickie.
In my first squadron, I was Fred, because my stoner team lead forgot my name one night.
A former coworker called me Freekin’ Ray because I told everyone I was a “freekin’ ray of sunshine” when I worked there.
On line, I’m FairyChatMom or FCM.
To my daughter, I’m Mom.
To my due-in-April grandchild, I expect to be Busi (pronounced bushy) which is what we called our grandmothers. We were told it’s Polish, but translators don’t seem to recognize it as such. Maybe it was a regionalism where our family originated.
No clue what my dog or cats call me - Bringer of Food would be my guess.
Except for a place where I used to work, where my supervisor (an immigrant from Honduras) couldn’t pronounce that, so called me by my first name, Robert, and so did many of the other people there. Who tended to pronounce it more like Lobert.
Most people call me Wendy.
Online I’m always The Chilean Blob.
Except for my alternate handle for stuff I don’t want associated with my actual identity.
My husband and I call each other and refer to each other as Baby.
Two of my kids call me Mama and one calls me Mommy.
To my grandbabies I’m Nanny.
If you call me María José Wolfenstein Madurga you’re in IT and create accounts.
If you have no idea who Marijo Wolfenstein is but “the Wolfs’ sister” is instantly identifying, you’re from my home town and know my brothers more than me.
If you call me Aunt Marijo you’re one of my nephews. If you exclaim “duckies!” when your parents say Marijo, you’re The Newest Nephew.
If you call me Cora you know me from gaming.
If you’re surprised that my name is Marijo and not Maite you know my mother (who is a Maite) and have no imagination.
