A while back there was a thing going around on Twitter to explain the story behind your user name.
Alias Bob.
Sometimes I wonder if people see my name and think it’s one of those creepy, weird, shared, couple’s accounts where we act like we literally share a brain. In reality it has nothing to do with my husband. I don’t remember which platform I originally used that moniker on, but it’s been around for nearly two decades at this point.
I watched a lot of standup comedy as a kid. I watched a lot of standup comedy I really shouldn’t have been watching as a kid. My parents didn’t really police my TV viewing.
There was a bit about a guy who murdered his family because the devil told him to. Which was followed by the question, what if, when he returned to the devil to tell him the deed was done, the devil pulled off his mask and yelled, “IT’S ME BOB!”
The punchline to my pre-teen self made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe.
IT’S ME BOB! turned into a dumb catch phrase that made me snicker at the mere thought of it.
Fast forward to junior high, feeling left out of the loop when my friends were giving each other ridiculous nicknames, I gave myself the nickname Bob. Because nothing says I am so not awkward as fuck like giving yourself a nickname.
And yet…it actually kind of stuck.
In that same time frame I received a stuffed frog as a Christmas gift from one of said friends.
I named him Bob the Frog. Obviously.
And then we jump ahead a good fifteen years or so and I sign up for a profile on a dating website and get a message from a guy named Bob and my first response was AYFKM?!?!?!???
And then I married him.
And all that terribly articulated story to say:
I was Bob before I met Bob.
And today marks eleven years of Bob Squared.
Bob the Frog was one of the first critters to make the move after I moved in with Bob the Husband. (Or at the time, Bob the Boyfriend.) For obvious reasons.
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