It’s Wednesday, my friends, and time to play the Name Game. The rules are simple: I throw out a name, and we share stories about people we’ve known with that name. Not exactly complicated, huh?
This week we’re going to be talking about David. Do you know, or have you ever known, any Davids? Please tell us all about ’em in the comments.
I’ll start.
The first David that pops into my mind is a guy from my high school class. He was popular, and pretty wild. Shortly after he turned 16 he got a babyshit-green Trans Am. Or was it a Camaro? I’m not really a car guy, but know it was special-ordered from the factory. There was no other vehicle in our area that looked like that thing. It was bad-ass, and unique.
Needless to say, it was promptly crashed. Then crashed again. Within a year that car was fucked nine ways to sunset. But he had a good ten or eleven month run…
I didn’t have much in common with that David, but always liked him. He was (and undoubtedly is) a likable dude.
Another prominent David was a year or two older than me, and was REALLY into drums. I mean, he was drummin’ all the time. There were several of those drummer kids in our school — always pecking and stomping, and carrying around sticks in their back pockets. Know what I mean? It’s the male version of the girls who never stop practicing their cheers.
But this guy was different. Wanna guess what he does for a living? You know, three decades later? He’s been the drummer in Tim McGraw’s touring band for many years, and has traveled the globe with him. He’s also a popular session musician, and living the freaking dream. How cool is that?
My third and final David is a guy I met at Peaches Records in Greensboro. He was a film student when I knew him back then. And fellow record store clerk, and drinking partner…
He went on to make a feature-length indie film, which I saw and enjoyed, and also did several documentaries. He’s a talented and energetic dude.
But the thing I admire the most about the North Carolina David? He’s managed to stay completely off the corporate teet. As far as I know, he’s always worked for himself, doing video production, etc. He’s never had to put up with the nonsense that most of us endure every day. He’s a free agent, making a living with his creativity. And that’s a hell of an accomplishment, in my book.
Now it’s your turn. Do you know any Davids? All mine are good. but I’m sure there are some rogue Davids out there too. Either way, please share your stories in the comments section.
And I’ll see you guys again next time.
Have a great day!
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I think I know more people named Dave than David.
My cousin’s name is David and he’s a sweetheart. Odd, but a sweetheart. At a family reunion, his sisters teased him mercilessly about him picking out a pair of sneakers and how he complained about every pair he tried on…”No, the rubber doesn’t smell right… no, this is the completely wrong shade of blue… It rubs my toe all funny” On and on. It was great!
Another David I know – my husband and I met this couple at a resort in the Bahamas. Dave and Vanessa. They’re from the UK and we hit it off immediately. It’s been almost 10 years and we still keep in touch. We call each other every New years.
That’s about it except for the occasional David that I’ve met through work. They don’t count when you work for a huge corporation.
Aw shucks, Jeff you made me blush…
But to clarify, the only way to make a decent living is to make videos for corporate types. The only thing is they come in, tell stories about their corporate hell-hole, then leave! I get to make the video, put up with the corporate bullshit as long as it take to make them happy, then move on. Oh and I get to make fun music videos from time-to-time. Although not nearly often enough. PLUG ALERT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EkArIZccjiE
Just watched the video David. Now THAT’S country music!
We knew a David all through school who, by the time we got to high school, was a full-blown pyromaniac. He used to take M-80’s, lay the wick across a lit cigarette, and go to class. About 10 minutes into class, you’d hear the most gawd-awful blast coming from some far off place in the building. He also did the same thing with the cigarette, but this time filled a prescription bottle full of gun powder, added a wick, and set it under the stairwell near the front of the building after school had let out. The front stairwell had floor to ceiling glass windows. I think you know the rest of the story. He was ALWAYS asking us if we knew where to get explosives. The dude was supposed to walk beside me at graduation. Yep, flunked, so I walked alone. I think today, he spends most of his time buried to the waist in engine compartments of cars.
Davids, or Daves, as I like to call them, are pretty thick around here.
One of my first childhood friends was named Dave W. I remember he used to eat hotdogs cold, right out of the refrigerator. It still freaks me out to this day.
I have another friend whose given name is John David H, but he has always preferred to be called Dave. His parents have called him David for as long as I’ve known him. He’s a genuine genius. 4.0 all through school, valedictorian, had academic scholarship offers from schools around the country including MIT and the Ivy League. He turned them all down to be a musician. He’s very talented and also a decent person in any way you’d care to name.
He played at my wedding and I was his best man.
He eventually got his PhD in music and now teaches at the university level. He’s married to a very nice young lady who he claims is smarter than he is. Based on some of the things she’s done in her career I’m inclined to believe him. She’s a rising star in her chosen profession. It’s my fervent hope that their children use their powers for good, otherwise we’re looking at having a generation of little Lex Luthors running around.
Last is a college buddy named Dave S. He’s colorful, that’s for sure. When we met he was the head bouncer at one of the rougher bars in our little college town. He’s about 5’9″ and 175 and I saw him lay out some pretty big dudes from time to time. He tells a story about an attempted mugging by two guys in one of the most violent cities in the country. It ends with him holding up the guy he’s beaten unconscious while telling his partner “I’m gonna to kill your friend. He’s gonna die. You’re next.” The second guy declined the offer, picked up his buddy and ran.
After college he was working as a sales engineer and making some pretty good money. He ended up marrying the granddaughter of his companies owner. They divorced later. Then he started drinking and got arrested. Still kept his job. Then he got busted having an affair with the wife of one of his customers. He did not keep his job after that.
He scraped by for a while and then found out that he had a teenage son he’d never met with an older woman who he’d fooled around with while in college.
Now they live with him, and the company he was fired from hired him back to do some of their inside design and costing. They don’t put him on the road anymore.
I’ve known several Davids. One of the more memorable was a guy in junior high and high school who always smuggled porn mags into school buildings and on field trips, had a shelf in his locker full of condoms (in a time when they weren’t widely displayed at drugstores), and purportedly had a bedroom full of early VHS porn tapes. He frequently spoke of wet dreams and masturbation, usually walked around with his shirt unbuttoned to the navel, and had a voice like Quagmire on “Family Guy.” I never knew him to have a girlfriend, though, or ever saw him so much as talk to a member of the opposite sex…
Can’t swing a stick without hitting a Dave, or David around here. I was just talking to two of them today. My best friend growing up, who lived across the street was Dave. I’ve worked with Daves, and a “David” who insisted on being ‘David’.. (I just come to realize I have known a lot of people who insist on being called a particular version of a name and try to make you say it when you prefer to use the common names of Dave, or Sue,…
Anyway; [hopefully the right version since I’m on dialup I can’t verify]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JF1chLj1fro
One of my brothers is a David, goes by Dave now. A good dude but terrible about keeping in touch. I am too, for the record.
Most of the other Davids I’ve know are troublemakers, at least they were in HS. They’re possibly OK now for for a while if I met a David I’d immediately start evaluating their behavior for boorishness.
An old friend of mine has us all beat, I think, because he brother’s name is Dave, her BIL’s name is Dave, her ex-husband’s name is Dave, and she’s now dating a dude named….Dave. That’s a lot of Daves!
The first David I can think of is a fellow I lived with in San Francisco back in the early 1990s. He liked to use hard drugs a great deal, and this is why I have unfortunately been referring to him as ‘Dead Dave” for the last 19 years or so. He was a good guy, but I don’t think he was ever that happy in his own skin. The drugs were a necessary escape for him, I suppose.
Wow, where to begin. I used to work at a company owned by a Dave. Dave would dock your pay if you were one minute late, but he had no qualms about missing payroll now and then. He was not at all nice about it, either – just a high-handed, arrogant prick. I turned in my resignation by interrupting a meeting between him and a bank loan officer. That was in 1988. He still owes me $1000 in back pay, but I’m starting to think I may not ever see it.
I used to know a gay rocket scientist named David (not Dave). Haven’t heard from him in years.
And I have an Uncle David or Dave, who is a dour Methodist minister.
There are several others.
.
Other than Mike, of which I am one, I know more Dave/Davids than any other name on earth. My best friend is Dave, all in all a great guy. BOTH of my next door neighbors are named Dave, one of which I consider a good friend. And another of my friends that I’ve known for 25+ years is also a good dude. I don’t think I’ve come across any Daves that were real d-bags or anything.
2 guys named David. One from HS who was and still is a good guy. He was funny as hell in HS. The other I met when I first went to work, I was in his wedding, but really haven’t seen much of him since.
My youngest brother was a David, or Dave as we generally called him in adult life. A cop in a small upper Midwest town, until his wife came home and found him on the couch, the victim of a massive heart attack at the age of 43. I went to school, (kindergarten to high school graduation) with a Dave. Never really hung out with him, as he was one of the popular kids from an upper middle class family. Now a doctor in our home town. Then there was Crazy Dave, who didn’t give himself that descriptor. He was truly bat-shit crazy. Haven’t seen or even heard about him in years, probably dead by now. There is a Dave at work, who we call Ichabod behind his back. About 6’4″ and maybe 130 lbs. Claims to have some kind of learning disability. Also is constantly trying to get a date with any woman, but he remains a 42 year old virgin. Dumb as a sack of hammers, and it shows.
I knew of a David that was a “flasher”. Always waving his dick in women’s faces in parking lots and then running off. He obviously had a mental illness. Sweet guy though.
My youngest brother is a David, named after my Uncle David. I think my brother is only “David” to the family — to all others it’s Dave. He’s 10 years older than me and we were really close growing up; then he went and moved to Florida after he got married. He’s a good cat, with a couple of grown kids (and a grandson — yikes). He’s super laid back and easy going; pretty sure he’s never met a stranger and I can’t imagine anyone not liking him.
Hell, every Dave I’ve ever known has been a chill guy. I have NEVER known an uptight, asshole David — and I’ve known a few.
My father is a David (Dave). His friends think he’s great. One of them he’s been best friends with for almost 60 years. He totally sucked as a father, though. He had custody of me and my sister (she isn’t his bio child) and he was single so we lived with his mother. We sometimes spent summers with him, but mostly we would see him once or twice a year. One Thanksgiving I didn’t want any stuffing…soggy bread…shudder…He decided I was going to eat some. I sat there holding it in my mouth so it got even soggier, but I wasn’t gonna swallow it. He dragged me off to the bedroom, threw me on my sister’s bed and proceeded to whip me with his belt. My sister’s blanket was patchwork, so I spit out the stuffing. Anyway, I see the guy a couple of times a year and he has to beat my ass. GREAT guy! I have so many more stories, but this one gets the picture painted.
My sister named her son after him (he turned out to be an ADHD alcoholic). Her 3rd husband was a Dave and he brought along his son Davy, so they had a few running around, at times. Dave the husband was a drug addict, and I’m pretty sure he’s an inmate now. I don’t spend time with these people unless it’s unavoidable.
A David I DO like is David Cook, the singer.
I know plenty of Daves or Davids and, by and large they are a good lot. I have one exception. Here goes: My Mom’s second husband (went by David) came on the scene when I was in my late teens. For the next twenty years, he proceeded to freeload and sponge off the avails of Mom, who was working two jobs to make a go of it. He may have carried a job for a year max, making his living off of suing people (including yours truly). Eventually after twenty years of this, they ended up selling my childhood home, filing for bankruptcy and running down to the Caribbean. My guess is he was just ahead of some unsavoury types who no doubt wanted to have a chat with him. Once in the Caribbean, he promptly dumped Mom for a big titted twenty something local. The story has a happy ending though, the prick dropped dead of a heart attack in his late 50’s. I don’t normally wish ill will upon anyone, but in this case, karma’s a real bitch. There was a predetermined spot in hell for this guy, hope he’s enjoying himself now.
I have this female friend/former girlfriend who lived, many years ago, with a roommate in a spacious loft in a house in a historic southern city. Roommate’s name was David. David wasn’t just flamingly homosexual, he was blazing like the heart of a galaxy gay.
One night, having fallen asleep on the pullout couch after copious booze and watching Carson, I was roused from sleep around 2:45 or so by the pitter patter of little gay feet- David was sneaking in with the stud du jour.
I was drifting back off to sleep as they rustled around in the loft (the couch was set back so there was no view, thank goodness) and put the pillow over my head per usual as they got down to business. No biggie.
Until 10 minutes later, when- all of the sudden- there’s an OW! from upstairs, followed by lots of cooing and shushing.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek to keep from braying laughter, I woke up my girlfriend and quietly suggested a ride to Tybee for booze and breakfast, and maybe watch the sunrise. When we got in the car, I told her why and we laughed the entire trip.
Fast forward to a few months later and a group of friends are gathered for Thanksgiving dinner at their place, and David is going on and on about how “gross and disgusting… straight sex” is until, able to stand it no longer, I had to chime in with “at least we’re smart enough to lube up before one of us puts something up the other one’s ass. You don’t hear either of us screaming ‘OW’ at 3 in the morning.”
For some reason, he didn’t want to eat dinner with us that evening. Everyone else thought it was a riot, though.
My half-brother was David. I hated him. I talked to him for the first time in 50 years and found out he was a “Jr.” He was named for my father. However, my father’s middle name was “Davis.” I thought that was weird to be named the exact same name, but to be called something different. Daddy was called by his first name, so it’s not like there could be confusion around the house if her were called “Davis.”
My cousin David died when a driver hit him as he stood by his car, shielding his fiancée from the oncoming car that swerved to hit them at the last moment.
Oh…I hate to even remember this. I had a boss named David, and he thought he was really something. As I worked there I watched him hit on and date various women in the office. Occasionally his wife and little daughter would stop in and visit.
He took a young girl (and he was i his 40s) for a Valentine Day vacation to FL. She was signed up for some training program in another place, and no one was to know the difference. However, our controller opened the mail and saw the receipt for the purchase of the FL vacation tickets, one in each name, and this information was shared with the owner. The owner called Dave in FL and told him to end it.
He returned to work with a grim face, and the young girl had been “let go” as happens in these situations. Dave retained his position as VP, of course. We all knew….and it drove him crazy wondering which one of us had opened the mail that day and found out. He was humiliated to come back from his Valentine vacation and walk back in to work, wondering who knew and who squealed. He even gave each of us in the office flowers, nice touch, Dave–and took us out to lunch. I don’t know if this was “crawling back” or attempting to get one of us to spill the beans. In any case, it wasn’t us, it was the controller. But we enjoyed the lunch anyhow.
The slick womanizer is no longer with us. He died a few years ago and his wife and the rest of us are still alive.