Identity Theft
Last week, I got a friend request on Facebook from some 14-year-old Italian boy. At first, I thought nothing of it. I’m an attractive male and thus, it makes sense if some olive-skinned teenager would try to look at pictures of me to experiment with his sexuality. Of course, I declined his friend request (my cousins are annoying enough on Facebook; why would I want to befriend 14-year-old who doesn’t speak English?). I forgot about the boy and his friend request and went along happily with my life.
Until tonight.
I was googling myself, as an egomaniac such as myself is wont to do, and when that didn’t turn up anything new, I figured I’d type my name into the Facebook search and see what pops up. What popped up, much to my horror, was the profile for one Julian Franco Modugno. The only friend listed for him is the sexually-confused 14-year-old Italian boy who mistakenly thought that I was this Julian F. Modugno.
My whole life I’ve thought I was the only Julian Modugno in the world and, indeed, for most of my life, I was. But now, some snivelling little imposter has made it to the age where he can get onto the Facebook (and the internet in general) and make his presence known, vying with me for Julian Modugno supremacy!
When Google first came out, you wanna know how many results searching for “Julian Modugno” yielded? None, zilch, zero, nada. Do you know how many there are now? 208! I built this name up from NOTHING to the burgeoning google empire it is today and I am not gonna have some pimple-faced adolescent riding my coattails to internet megastardom.
You’ve been warned, J.F.M. Franco is a perfectly fine name. Might I suggest you adopt it as your first before some ill fate befalls you? I am a reasonable person, Franc, but even reasonable people have their limits.
Some of you might be thinking, “Julian, this is insane. You don’t even know the boy. Leave him alone.” That’s all fine and well. You sit there comfortable in anonymity with names like Jamie, Ben, Katie, Eli, or Cherry. You don’t know the agony I went through in childhood, dealing with dozens of children querying “Isn’t Julian a girl’s name?” Or the pain of having to hear every teacher/doctor/secretary you come across butcher your last name. It took me TWO DECADES to reach any level of comfort with my admittedly exotic name. It was mine. All mine. But no more?
I… don’t know who I am anymore. If Julian F. Modugno is here, where does Julian G. Modugno fit in?
