Back in the seventies and eighties, it was de rigueur for gay men to have female nicknames. These were often names similar to their own first name, but not always. Sometimes it would be related to their family name or their job.
Here are a few I knew.
Bruce was Blanch, as much for his tarty behaviour a la Golden Girls.
Warren was Wilma.
One Ray was Raelene and the other Raquel.
Ross was Rose, again relating to Golden Girls, and then his name became Leaf. Probably only older gays understand this one.
A surname starting with D became Dorothy, then Dotty.
Max became Madge and another became Maggie and sometimes Margaret.
A John became Mary and affectionately a drawn out Mares. Work that one out.
Michael, Mona and another Michelle.
Andrew, Andrea and another Agnes.
Danny, Danielle and another Deidre (spelling?)
Peter, Petra, another Petal, another Patricia and another Patrice.
A double whammy from surname and profession, Pollie.
After writing this less than fascinating post, it strikes me that these are nearly all such old names. Aren't we dated by our names or those our contemporaries.