I Already Have a Last Name
My husband and I will be family, but that doesn’t mean we’ll share a name
When I say I’m getting married, it’s all giggles and excitement from co-workers, former sorority sisters, mere acquaintances. Then it’s a barrage of questions (Can I be a bridesmaid? Will there be an open bar? Am I invited?), loudmouth opinions (My cousin had her wedding at this venue and you should too; If it were my wedding, I wouldn’t have a first look; I would never pick that color for bridesmaid dresses), and blatantly rude assumptions (Soon you’ll be having babies!).
The hardest expectation to shake is that I’ll be taking my husband’s last name. Every time I hear an innocuous comment or accept a decorative gift featuring his initial, I pipe up, “Actually, I’ll be keeping my last name.” Sometimes I concede, “Maybe I’ll hyphenate, but I’m not changing my name completely.” At worst, I seem difficult, a Bridezilla in the making—just like every bride-to-be whose family and friends have stepped on her toes in a major way. At best, they gloss over my interruption and ignore me. I can say it to the same person multiple times and they’ll barrel on as if I hadn’t spoken, sure that I’ll change my mind because that’s just the way it goes.
Historically, of course, that is the way it goes. A woman takes her husband’s last name. Like…
