Genealogist was constantly getting upset because someone would see a John Johnson in the same town in roughly the same age bracket and say that's him, make the link and move on without a second thought.
Problem is, our fascination with unique names is very recent. Our forebears were highly unoriginal with names, language barriers (including illiteracy + accents) would sometimes unintentionally see a person get a slightly different name in a new town. She had a guy with three names, and a suspicion that when he disappeared that he didn't die in a ditch, but instead finally changed his name on purpose.
Looking through my mother's research, I found what I thought were first cousins marrying, so I backed away slowly. Genealogist saw this a lot. Just mark it done and don't think about it any more.
After some more time with genealogist I finally looked at it more closely. This guy found himself a wife who was six days younger than his paternal cousin of the same name, from an unrelated family. Apparently nobody in this fucked up little town could figure out how to name their kids. Everyone named a kid after grandma, or married someone with grandma's name, and half of them had a sister named after her. Nine. There were nine women, by birth or marriage, in 3 generations, with the same first name, in the same town. I can't imagine family gatherings.
Ever wonder how you get 'Peggy' from Margaret? I don't anymore. Somewhere there was Grandma Margaret who just wanted to nap in peace and so she nicknamed her granddaughter Peggy so people would stop yelling her name.