Saturday, November 05, 2005 | I know it’s football season but, lately, my wife and I have been playing the “Name Game” instead.

We’re expecting our second child, a boy, in March and we’ve been racking our brains trying to come up with something that we and the little nipper can live with for the rest of his life.

Frankly, it’s a lot easier to name girls and for them to get away with kooky names (even though there hasn’t been a First Lady named “Darcy” yet). You can call a girl a boy’s name like “Sam” and it still sounds feminine.

Heck, girls can even get away with some weird-ass names like “Dakota” but you can’t really call a boy “Wilma” or “Britney” unless you want him to get punched out for the rest of his life a la “A Boy Named Sue.”

Right now, my wife and I have been throwing lots of names back and forth. Actually, I’ve been throwing lots of names toward her and she’s been rejecting them. I like boy’s names that sound like jazz musicians.

For the longest time, I’ve wanted to name my son “Thelonious” after the great jazz pianist and also because I think “The Moye” is a catchy name.

My wife disagrees but promised I can name the next pet.

I’m a flexible guy but I did issue one decree: The boy cannot be named “Dustin.” Although boys with that name often grow up to be fine men, every child named “Dustin” is a wimpy Mama’s boy afraid of his own shadow.

Luckily, my wife didn’t fight about it.

Now she wants to name our son, Owen. It’s a family name for her and while I’m OK with “Owen,” it just reminds me that after he’s born I’ll be owin’ a LOT of money.

For a while, we agreed on “Isaac” but then my wife saw an old episode of “The Love Boat” and immediately decided it would be dooming her future son to a life of jokes about the Acapulco Lounge.

Then I met a guy named “Ike” and he mentioned all the mean words that rhyme with his name that, trust me, are very offensive to my lesbian and Jewish friends who I am depending on to pitch in with goodies for our “boy baby shower” in a few months.

That conversation reminded me of something that occurred when Alex was still in her mommy’s tummy. Parents don’t always name their child for success as an adult but to mitigate schoolyard damage.

When we were considering names, a few of our friends felt compelled to consider abusive alternatives.

The reason Alexandra was chosen, in part, was because the worst thing anyone could say was “Smart Alex,” which isn’t so bad and I am hoping that Owen works well in that regard, too. Unless some smarmy schoolyard bully knows something I don’t.

So, for now, it’s Owen but the due date isn’t until March and if the Chargers make a run for the Super Bowl, I might be able to convince my wife to name our son, “LaDainian Moye.”

David Moye is a La Mesa-based writer who would like to avoid giving his son an alliterative name.

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