A little over 25 years ago, a young chap was born, and his parents gave him a valiant name. That young man, we will call him Dustin, is me. As long as Dustin can remembered those close to him have called him Dusty. Growing up, in fact, his grandmother was the only person he can remember who called him Dustin. At the time, it annoyed every ounce out of him, but a grandmother’s love will drown any annoyances.
Then one day, this young man graduated high school, packed all of the things he owned in the car, kissed his mother goodbye, and ventured off to college. Some of Dustin’s best friends ended up going to college with him, and with it his nickname. About this same time, he started introducing himself as Dustin. This was not to replace his nickname but to be more formal during introductions.
An interesting situation formed. People who had always called him Dusty continued as one might think would happen. As a generalization, most women/ladies/girls called me Dustin while the guys out there eventually picked up on Dusty and went with it. This holds true to this day – six years later. Dustin even refers to himself as Dusty during non-professional settings. He is also dating somebody who even giggles every time somebody calls him Dusty, odd little girl she is.
Then one day about, say, nine months ago his bestest friend started dating a girl. Since permission was not given to mention her here, we will call her With an ‘I’ since she spells her common name with an ‘i’ instead of a ‘y’. With an ‘I’ is one of those few girls who uses Dusty. But she takes it one step past kosher and spells it with an ‘i’. Yes, yes, she – and now all her friends even those who knew him before – calls me Dusti.
The best response for this has come from Dustin’s mother. She said some words I would like to keep off this site, but if the stereotype holds true, it would be something like: ‘Sounds like it is from San Fransisco’.
This is Dustin (or Dusty) hoping you a magical Tuesday.