The Only Situation In Which I Would Change My Last Name
I was just in the pharmacy picking up some whore pills, and it turned out the guy behind me—blond haired and blue eyed like me—has the same, unusual German last name.
(Side note: Isn’t it a weird aspect of social media that I’m cool with sharing about my ladyparts meds and not my last name? This modern world, I tell ya.)
Anyway, it turns out he spells his name one letter differently than mine. This got me to thinking about marriage. (He was pretty handsome in a ‘we look related and I’m a narcissist’ sort of way.) Marrying him—or another similarly-monikered gent—is the only way I would take someone else’s name. I’d get an internet history clean slate AND still get to be true to myself and my heritage.
Plus, it would be super fun to make a big deal about correcting everyone, changing my email address/FB name, getting a bedazzled jumpsuit that says “Mrs. _____” across my tatas, etc. All that jazz that broads do. As you might guess, I have a lot of very strong feelings about women changing their names, which I shan’t burden everyone with. Suffice to say that I am against it probably to an unreasonable extent. (Dear real life friends reading this: I’ll love you no matter what you do, but I might audibly sigh a little from time to time. Sorry!)
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