Here's what I have so far of my new project:
I never tell anyone what my real name is.
The guy whose number I still have written on the inside of my favorite jeans thinks my name is Billy, even though I only told him that because the MJ song was playing and he said he wasn't going to leave me alone until he got a name. He didn't specify whose name he wanted, so I gave him the only one that came to mind at the moment. Now he's probably waiting by his phone for a girl named Billy Jean to call only I won't ever call him because I am definitely not his lover.
The doorman thinks my name is Grace (though he always calls me Gracie). Rita, the lady who sells flowers around the corner from my job calls me Lola even though I don't really look like a Lola.
I don't really look like any of the names I tell people. Only my mother insists that I look like a November, which is what my real name is unfortunately.
Now you can kinda understand my reasoning for lying whenever someone asks me what my name is. I mean, I was named after a freakin' month of the year. Not really, but most people would think that.