I had my blood drawn recently. The technician who called me back to the lab confirmed that I was Denise, then, as she began looking for a nice plump vein, told me that she was also named Denise.

I checked her nametag, and found that it was true.

“Wow!” I said, genuinely delighted. There just aren’t that many Denises around.

“I was about to take a bathroom break,” she informed me, “but I saw that a Denise was next and I decided to wait so I could help you myself.”

I liked her already. And, she told me, because my birthday was printed on my chart, she knew that we were both born in the same year. How cool was that? We were practically twins.

Then, a second lab tech sidled over to us. She looked at me, smiled at my new friend Denise, and said, “Well, the lab’s just full of Denises today. I’m Denise too.”

“Very neat!” I said, the tiny needle now gently plunging into my vein. “OK,” I said, “how many of us were nicknamed Niecy when we were kids?”

“I was!”

“Me, too!”

The last Denise said there was a joke she’d sometimes heard growing up, and I knew the one before she said it: “Hey, Denise! Where’s De-nephew?”

We had all heard it, and I was able to share that I had heard it from two different orthodontists, and suspected that they told it at conventions. They agreed on this possibility.

When I was a girl, it was my heart’s regret I was not named Michelle, or Julie, or Lisa. Those were by far the most popular names among girls my age. I asked my mom once why she named me Denise, and she said it was my dad’s idea. She was so sure I was going to be a Greg, she hadn’t given any thought to a girl’s name.

Dad couldn’t remember how he thought of it. Sigh.

Actually, I eventually grew into my name. I like it now, partly because there aren’t too many around.

Names are funny things. I met a woman years ago who was in legal negotiations over her surname. She had recently gone through a divorce and didn’t want to keep her married name, but didn’t care to go back to her maiden name, either.

Instead she was attempting to have her full legal name be just her first name: Shelby. She loved her name, and thought it could stand on its own. I’ve often wondered if she succeeded.

I once found a webpage just for men named Hank. Can’t find it anymore, but it seemed like some kind of support group. They talked about all the things they had done with their lives, and encouraged each other to be proud of the name, and make the name proud. If there is a Denise site, it is not on any of the first 10 pages that a Google search provided.

When we began naming our own kids, choosing a unique name started off being important. In 1992 I had known of only two Jennas, so we chose that for our firstborn. It was a good choice for her, but did it turn out to be a unique choice? Not so much.

As of last year there were something like five Jennas attending her school, and at least one of them also shared her middle name.

Middle names … I forgot to ask the Denises what their middle names are. Wouldn’t it be cool if we had the same middle name?