A few years ago, a man—too young for me and already in a monogamous relationship, but who was very handsome and obviously fancied me—sent me an email with the subject “I know.” When I opened the email, it turned out that what he had discovered, through talking to a mutual friend, was that one of my middle names was Isolde.
Some people might have found that creepy. In fact, my housemate, whose bed I was sitting in when I received the email, was slightly alarmed. I wasn’t though. I was on the precipice of reciprocating his crush and it leading to a doomed relationship. But I thought it was romantic, further proof of the magical quality of my middle name.
I wrote about one of middle names for Cunning Folk.