If you call me Cynthia, you're a family member or coworker, or else possibly somebody I used to go to school with in high school or college.
If you call me QueerByChoice, you're most likely a LiveJournal user who doesn't know me very well yet, or possibly a BowieNet member.
If you call me Mrs. Um Er Uh How Do You Pronounce That, you're some annoying salesperson who doesn't know me at all and makes incorrect assumptions about my marital status.
If you call me very strange random things that change all the time and are frequently in all capital letters and several lines long, you're Sean.
If you call me Gayley, you're either Ink or Anna.
If you call me QBC, you're a BowieNet member.
If you call me QueerByCandlelight, you're BowieNet member "TotalBlamBlam."
If you call me QueerByBirth, you're a really annoying stupid person deliberately getting on my nerves.
If you call me QVC, you're a mildly annoying person with a weird fixation on pretending to mistake me for a shopping channel, and you're also a BowieNet member.
If you call me Cyrus, you're either my ex-online-girlfriend Alberta or my transsexual college penpal Mary.
If you call me Conchita, you're my high school Spanish teacher.
If you call me Crypt Fiend, you're the weird freshman boy with the pink mohawk in my art class junior year of high school.
If you call me Cindy, you're somebody who hasn't seen or heard from me since I was 13. Or my father being forgetful until I was about 17.
If you call me Bear Claw, you're my stupid next door neighbor Dan when I was nine years old, who stole my toys and who I scratched with my fingernails while I chased him around to get them back, thus earning the nickname.
If you call me Princess, you're my first and third grade teacher, Mrs. Potter (I had the same teacher twice). Yes, I was the only student she called Princess, at least during those two years, and yes, she always only called me Princess, never my actual name. I liked it at the time, but in retrospect it seems a little weird.
If you call me Donkey Nose, you're a very bossy girl named Annie who was my "friend" from first through third grade and who gave all of her/my/our "friends" insulting nicknames and addressed us all by them incessantly.
If you call me Cindyrella, Freckles, or Freckleface, you're my father circa 20 years ago.
If you call me Cindy Lou Who, you're my maternal grandfather circa 20 years ago.
If you call me Mr. Spock, you're the son of the babysitter who babysat me when I was two years old or less, who I have no memory of, but who was fascinated by how pointy my ears were.
If you call me Paul, you're either of my parents during the time my mother was pregnant with me, or my father being forgetful during the first six months after I was born, or any random relative now randomly confusing me with my little brother.