Please excuse me darling, it's not you. It's me.

I've always liked being named "Linda." To be fair, I think most people like their names just fine, or are at least pleasantly indifferent to them. Most names are pretty darn unobjectionable. Even if you're stuck with an unfortunate name for the current fashion (I'm looking at you, Dorkases, Gertys, and Lloyds of the 21st century), it's entirely possible you'll still wind up becoming fond of your name, thanks to a Stockholm syndrome-like situation wherein once you've been stuck with a name for long enough, you just grow to love it.

But for as long as I can remember, I've actively and consciously liked "Linda" -- and not just because of its etymology, which frankly doesn't factor much into it. (Fun fact: When you're put into a situation in which you have to admit that your name means "pretty" in Spanish, people tend to look at you as if you named yourself Linda just so you can fish for a compliment.) No, it's the little things. I like that Linda hasn't been a popular name since the 1940s, which means that to this day I'm the only person in my peer group with my name. I like that when I email clients at work, they tend to assume I'm middle-aged and respond with heightened courteousness. I like that when I write my signature I get to start with that cool, loopy, cursive L. I like that, even though it's a WWII-era name, Linda isn't a name that sounds too old or crotchety, like Edith or Gladys. I like that people never mispronounce my name and very rarely ask me to spell it (because who actually spells Lynda with a y anyway?). I like how it sounds: the syllables are light and roll easily off the tip of the tongue.

I know -- it's weird to be so affectionate about your own name. But in my mind, it's an apporpriate thing to admire and be thankful for, because naming children is such a complete and utter crapshoot. I honestly have no idea how parents deal with the stress of assigning their kid a name, knowing full well that the child will, in all likelihood, carry that name to their grave. Who knows what kind of subtle psychological impacts your offspring will incur, simply because of your stupid name choice?

What are your options as a parent, really? Do you go with a currently trendy name? (Benefit: no one will think your child is weird at school. Risk: a million kids will also have that name, and it's possible that it's a ludicrous name that people only think is cool right now, like Londyn) Do you go with a family/legacy name? (Benefit: you have a legitimate excuse for the name if your child ever challenges you on it. Risk: there's no telling whether that name will be considered freakish down the road. Take "Murphy." It's fine now, but in 2045, who knows?) Do you go with a "never goes out of style" name like John or Mary? (Benefit: no one will ever think the name is weird. Risk: your child may self-identify as boring) Do you go with an old-fashioned name that you want to revive, like Elanor or Hugo? (Benefit: paying homage to history. Risk: a million kids will still have that name, because this is a really trendy thing to do right now) And what if you're a person of color? Then you have to think about whether you should name your child something "white-sounding" or else cripple their job prospects and earning potential for the rest of their life.

No one else in my extended family is named Linda, so it was never obvious to me where my name came from, or how my parents managed to knock it out of the park with a seemingly random pick. On multiple occasions, I've asked both Mom and Dad to tell me the story behind my name, and I don't think I've ever gotten the same answer twice. Their various responses are (paraphrased and subject to my faulty recollection) as follows:

 -  "We took turns suggesting names, but every time one of us made a suggestion, the other one shot it down. This went on for a really long time, and we were both getting frustrated. Finally, one of us suggested Linda, and neither of us hated it, so we went with that."
 -  "My college roommate was named Linda. It's a nice name, so we thought, why not?"
 -  "Your dad wanted a name that couldn't be shortened into a nickname."
 -  "Your mom was the one who decided on the name Catherine for your sister, so I was the one who got to pick your name."
 -  "We almost named you Madeline."

While none of these explanations are particularly helpful in terms of helping Future Parent Me with my own child-naming quandary, I'm struck by the fact that neither of my parents evidently stressed about it too much. Relying on what appears to be mostly gut instinct and optimism, they did all right by me and my sister. So perhaps the answer is -- provided you're a kind, intelligent, and loving parent -- you can just wing it and trust in the result.

(Of course, my parents also had a cat they named George, so maybe their instinctive naming proficiency was gender-specific.)