Things I Would Do If My Name Were “Benedict Cumberbatch”
Benedict Cumberbatch is the star of the BBC show Sherlock and also of this one reoccurring dream I have where we ride unicorns off into the rainbow mist and make out under a shooting star.
The hilarious Meghan O’Keefe of the Huffington Post referred to this sweeping Cumberbatch panty-twisting fever as a full-on situation. It is. Tumblr can barely contain itself from gif-ing his every expression and witticism. We’re in the middle of a glorious Internet Cumberbatch revolution.
But more than the dulcet tones of his caramel voice or his razor sharp Tilda Swinton cheekbones, Benedict Cumberbatch has a really funny name. It’s memorable, it’s ridiculous, I can’t get enough of hearing it. Here are some things I would do, if Benedict Cumberbatch was my name:
- Open a trendy bakery called “Benedict’s Cumber-Batches of Crumpets.”
- Found an independent security firm called “The Cumberwatch.”
- Order a complicated coffee drink at Starbucks and give the poor barista my full name to call out.
- Tell people I was in Harry Potter…as myself.
- Yell my own name whenever I sneeze or say “Benedict Cumberbatch you” to someone else who’s sneezed.
- Name my firstborn child “Quidditch Cumberbatch.”
- Start a rumor that if you say my name three times in a row while looking into a darkened mirror, I show up at your house.
- Check out library books and write my name in all of them with a different year ranging from 1860 to present day.
- Whenever someone calls anything “cumbersome,” punch them in the face and yell, “Cumbersome? Cumber-all! Cumberbatch!”
- Instead of asking the time, walk around asking people what year it is. Then say, “Sorry. My name is Benedict Cumberbatch: Worldclass Time Traveler.” Then, run away flailing.
- Seal every envelope with the red wax seal of the Cumberbatch crest: an eagle holding a Union Jack in one hand and giving the middle finger with the other.
- Marry someone with the last name “Batchcumber” who wants to hyphenate.
- Insult people by calling them “a real Benedick Cumbersnatch.”
- Phone a big-time law firm and leave a very important, time sensitive message with an assistant. Hang up before I can spell my name for them.
- Become a chef specializing only in a specific type of breakfast eggs.
- Stab someone in the back and pretend I don’t understand the irony.
- Open a novelty store where I only sell Victorian era portraits with my own name scrawled across the faces in Comic Sans MS.
- Buy a pet falcon and name him “Benedict Cumberscratch.”
- Hook up with a stranger and refer to my own pubes as “The Benethick Cumberthatch.”
- Run for prime minister.
- Shout ‘YOU JUST GOT CUMBERBATCHED, BITCH’ whenever I win an argument.
- Become a famous actor. Force everyone to say my name all the time.
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Even as I write this now I am debating whether or not to erase it all together.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love the story I can tell to my next lover, about my ex-lover, about how beautiful things were, how intense, how storybook, what a couple we were, and how you gradually, inexplicably, painfully, bit by bit, disappeared.
“I used to be afraid of failing at something that really mattered to me, but now I’m more afraid of succeeding at things that don’t matter.”
I was 24 and, while not gay, ever since college I had been getting more attention from gay men than from heterosexual women.