There’s a story behind every name—sometimes whispered like a secret, other times spelled out in bright, bold letters. It’s the first thing people know about us and, in a way, the first thing we know about ourselves. Names are how the world introduces us to itself, yet we often overlook how our names weave their way into our identities.

For me, the journey to embrace my name has been, in a word, unscripted.

What's in a Name?

I’ll let you in on a not-so-wild secret: I was named Miles for reasons that had nothing to do with me. I wasn’t named after the legendary jazz musician Miles Davis, nor because my parents envisioned me embarking on a great metaphorical journey (though considering their environmental activism, a bike journey wouldn’t have been off-brand). My mom read the name in a book once and liked how it looked on the page. That’s it. No fanfare, no starry epiphany in the mountains. It just felt... right to her.

And yet, for something decided long before my personality emerged, my name has been the backdrop to so many of life’s improvisations. “Miles,” they’d chuckle in elementary school, “like you could run one.” Spoiler: I couldn’t. Then in high school, my friends slapped “Per Hour” onto it like it was some kind of speed upgrade I didn’t ask for. By college, people casually assumed I was an open-road adventurer, maybe biking across continents or at least owning one of those maps you scratch off with a coin for every country you visit. They weren’t totally wrong about the adventurer archetype—an environmental policy degree will do that to you—but identity, I’ve learned, rarely sticks to a single lane on the map.

What does your name mean for you? Does it feel like a cozy sweater you grew into or a hand-me-down you wish came with a gift receipt? Or—let’s be honest—do you not think about it much at all? Either way, our names come with stories, and whether written by us or for us, they’re worth unpacking.

The Name Tag Moment

Few things in life throw your name directly in your face quite like a name tag. Those little sticker squares are a social pressure cooker masquerading as office supply—“Hi, My Name Is” followed by however much existential panic can fit on a 3x2-inch surface.

Some people play it straight, slapping their given name down without a second thought. Others lean into nicknames, initials, or—if they’re really looking to stir things up—a pseudonym like “Captain Pancakes” (an actual guy I met once at a brewery trivia night). And then there’s the third camp: the shy shrug of “It’s complicated.” You’d think simple names like mine would sidestep this dilemma altogether, but nope. “Miles,” I say at a crowded bar, and immediately someone hears “Myles” or—worse—“Mike.” (True story: I had an entire conversation with someone calling me Mike and just didn't correct them. Mike was having a great night, apparently.)

In the world of dating—whether it’s meeting someone at a party or across a coffee shop counter—these name tag moments happen again and again. They’re the subtle heartbeats of connection: the way someone says your name, how it feels when it comes out wrong, and what it sounds like whispered versus shouted. It’s a lot, really, when you think about it. Names aren’t just labels; they’re microcosms of how we show up in a room, on a date, or in someone else’s memory.

Own It—Whatever That Means

Whether or not you like your name, there’s huge power in how you choose to carry it. On the best days, your name is the headlining act: bold, confident, clear. On the messier, less-photo-worthy days, it quietly occupies the credits, scrolling across the liner notes of your life. And both are okay.

Here are a few lessons I’ve picked up from wrestling with the Miles of it all:

1. Your Name Isn’t the Whole Story, But It’s a Start

Sometimes I felt boxed in by “Miles.” It’s tidy. Simple. But over the years, I’ve realized that people don’t just remember your name—they remember the feeling of you. Talk about your passions on a date, even if you remember later it didn’t “fit the moment.” Introduce yourself with full eye contact. A name is an opening line, but the real power is in everything unsaid.

2. Play With It

Names are surprisingly flexible if you let them be. Got a more formal name you hate? Throw out a nickname. Add flair. One summer during my two-year stint in Seattle, I joked about adopting “Mountain Mike” after a rugged wilderness trek—on brand, yes, but definitely too much beard oil to sustain the energy. Still, try it out: What’s in a moniker if not personality?

3. It’s Okay to Correct People (or Let It Slide)

If someone mispronounces your name—especially on a first date—you get to set the tone. Laugh it off, or course-correct immediately. Just make sure it feels right for you. (Personally, I’ve come to believe that nearly every Miles-turned-“Mike” is an accidental icebreaker.)

4. Give Others Grace, Too

Names get butchered constantly. Take a breath. Whether you’re the one explaining or apologizing for saying it wrong, remember: What matters more is the effort behind the moment. Grace, even over a takeaway coffee cup, is one of the simplest bridges we build.

The Bigger Picture, Size 12 Font

Our names are the skin we didn’t choose, the melody we hum without realizing, the invisible passport stamped across every social interaction. But they’re also dynamic, shaped by how we inhabit them. And in the wider story of identity—of relationships, first impressions, late-night confessions—they’re just one thread of an ever-widening tapestry.

Maybe your name holds the weight of generations. Maybe it’s a one-off pick from your parents’ favorite TV show. Maybe you’ve changed it, reclaimed it, or are considering it. Whatever the case, let it be yours—not in the sense of perfect ownership (seriously, we’re all just figuring stuff out) but in your choice of how to use it.

And here’s the truth: Every time someone says your name, no matter how awkward or heartfelt or unexpected, it’s not just a callback to who you’ve been. It’s an invitation to show up, fully and authentically, right then and there. So wear it like you mean it—even if you’re still figuring out what that means.

Because in the end? We all live unscripted.