A Rose By Any Other Name… Wait, That’s My Name, Dammit!
With our recent engagement, all sorts of questions have been popping up, one of which is if going to change my name.
Now, we could get into all sorts of stickiness here about feminism and identity of the self and individuality, etc. But I’m not usually that serious and generally hate debating and defending my opinions, so let’s get down to the truth about it.
I’ve always thought it was weird when friends I’d grown up with suddenly had a new last name, and it usually takes me a few years to get used to it. And it’s double confusion if they’ve divorced and changed back or even remarried in a relatively short amount of time. I feel like I should slap a “Hello, my name is… ” sticker on them just so I can keep track.
So I hate the idea of changing my name. I like it. I’ve had it for thirty years. I’m associated with my family by it (usually a good thing). It’s modern times. Can’t he change his name?
He should know me better than that by now. I know he loves me like crazy and would do anything to make me happy. So I’m going to have some fun with this.
But for reals, I’m gonna change my name to his. I just had to give him a hard time about it.