It seemed like an excellent idea at the time. In fact, if it was just me, I’d probably go for it. His name would be Fabian. That’s a great boys name; strong but not overpowering, sensitive but not wimpy, charming but not fake. He’d be the kind of boy everyone wanted to be friends with.
Turns out Fabian is about the gayest name you could have. At least that’s what Chad says. Well, honestly, Chad and all of my friends. In fact, exactly nobody appreciated the name Fabian. Nobody, that is, except me. I could definitely picture Fabian toddling through the wildflowers on top of an Austrian butte as Julie Andrews wonders aimlessly by singing something about hills and music.
If it was just our DNA making little Fabian, then chances are, he would blend in quite well with those musical alpine hills. However, little Fab’s bio mom is a little Indian woman from Delhi. Chances of little blonde-headed kiddos running around in our future are slim to none. Still, Fabian wouldn’t be a bad name for a Bollywood hotshot.
Anyhow, much to my chagrin, Fab got crossed off the list pretty immediately. Other names have been floated to replace my cherished Fabian. But, none that flow so effortlessly off the tongue. Fabian and I will have to get over it.
By the way, our beta count is 1432. We may have to keep Fabian as a backup name.