Seriously, don't waste a good sex joke on me

I believe in sneezing as loudly as you must, recycling everything that you possibly can and, if you're over 18, taking whatever last name you so choose. Personally, I sneeze with absolute sincerity, recycle with religious fervor and have chosen to use the name Dix. Call me old-fashioned and docile, but it just so happens to be my husband's last name as well. Along with the French TEN. New Jersey's Army base. An exit on Illinois' Interstate 57. A smallish village in Nebraska. And ...if you're mind is in the infamous gutter...it kind of sounds like...well... you know. OR? Maybe you don't know. MAYBE you're just as obtuse and deadpan as I am. Feel free to lie to me here.

For shits and giggles, I'd like to share with you one of my, shall we say, oblivious tendencies on display:

Me: I had a weird conversation with the liquor store girl today.

Allan: Weird how?

C: Weird like, she looked at my license then looked at me then looked back at my license... and then she smirked.

A: That's not a conversation.

C: I'm not finished.

A: So get to the weird part.

C: No, actually, it was more like a smirk ACCOMPANIED by a teheehee.

A: Is that the weird part of the conversation? 'Cuz I still didn't hear the conversation part.

A: The weird part, Mr. Smarty, is that I asked her what her problem was, thinking that she was going to make reference to the deer-in-the-headlights look on my ID's face. But INSTEAD she said, "Oh, nothing's the matter. But... well...SURELY you get this reaction a lot, right?" At which I said, "Ummmmm...... WHAT???" Because I was in an honest-to-god state of bafflement. So then she just smiled and handed my license back to me most unaccusingly without saying another word. More importantly, she handed me the Pinot I'd just purchased.Which was a relief because for a minute there I thought, with all her looking at me weirdly, that she was going to accuse me of having a fake ID and confiscate the booze. Anyway, as I was driving home, I think I figured out what her problem was. I think she thought my name didn't match my skin tone-slash-eye slant. Maybe she found humor in the fact that I look more like a Gonzales. Or a Parvati. Or, you know, a Chong Hoang.... since she OBVIOUSLY wasn't making reference to my age. And chortling over a total stranger's driver's license photo is just an unattractive quality, especially when you see a gazillion IDs over the course of a day in that line of work. And, really, my picture can't be THAT worthy of a...

A: OR, humorless one, maybe she just got a kick out of a girl named Dix.

C: What do you mean?

A: DIX!

C: Huh?

A: Oh, c'mon... DIX???

C: ?????

A: Never mind, sweetie.

C: I don't get what's so funny about that.

A: And I refuse to explain locker room humor to my wife. Have another glass of wine and we'll try again later.

I'm sorry, but unless I change my middle name to Worships, Hates, Prefers, Resents, Collects, or Deflowers, I will continue to not really get it. I said I was all for choosing my last name. I never said nothin' about my middle name. I was born with Renée, and Renée it will stay. So there goes THAT joke.