This weekend, the hubs and I had the pleasure of attending a dear friend’s wedding.
When I say pleasure, I mean I wobbled around in brand new killer heels until my feet were nothing more than shredded bloody stumps all the while trying to fight off my husband’s drunken amorous attempts to convince me to have sex in the coat room while every one else nibbled on wedding cake.
As he so thoughtfully pointed out in a slurred voice, it’ll get me off my feet at the very least. How does one resist such romantic thoughtfulness?
In general, I hate weddings. Not my own of course, but at my own wedding I was almost five months pregnant and my husband treated me like a fragile princess, catering to my every whim and desire while a hundred people paid homage to my beauty and the great love Boo and I share.
At other peoples wedding, I am just some schlepp tottering about in shoes no woman has any business wearing while trying to remember to make sure her skirt isn’t tucked into the back of her underwear after she goes to the bathroom.
My husband however, (bless him, he’s a romantic sap,) loves weddings. He says he loves them because it reminds him of our great romance and makes him appreciate how blessed he is to have fallen in love with the most wonderful woman in the world.
I think he loves weddings because he knows he looks great in a suit and he can spend his time freely flirting with other women while feeling them up on the dance floor. It’s a free pass to let his lecherous nature run rampant.
Either way, he’s always the romantic dynamo of our duo while I quietly bitch about my feet, the food and that one broad who is obviously gunning for my man. Husband stealin’ ho. Heh.
Because Boo and I have been married so long, we no longer feel the need to remain glued to one another’s side as we mingle. This gives him the freedom to talk smack about his wife to the boys and make googly eyes at all the pretty ladies while I generally hide in the washroom or by the bar.
Circumstance and happen chance led us to the same place at the same time, where the bride was taking a quiet minute alone from her guests, absorbing her special day and probably freaking the fack out about hitching herself to one man for the rest of her life.
(Okay, that is totally just my editorial opinion. But it’s my blog. Heh.)
The truth was, she was just then realizing she would no longer be the person she was the day before. Or at least, she would no longer carry the same name, the same identity. Now she was someone’s wife, where before she had only ever been a girlfriend and a daddy’s girl.
She was having trouble coming to terms with her new marital name. Not that there was anything wrong with it. It was a nice name. Nothing like Humpadick or such. It just wasn’t the name she held dear to her heart and wore like a comfortable pair of shoes her entire life.
Boo, being old fashioned and logical, (I hate that about him sometimes. Completely annoys me with his rationality,) was quick to hug his dear friend and told her she was still the same person and she would be quick to embrace her new name and her new identity. He explained that what she was feeling was normal and would pass and the greatest honor a woman could do for the man she loved was take his name.
The bride, glowing with radiant beauty already, perked up at this, smiled and looked at me and asked if I agreed. If I thought that was true.
(I have to tell you, in the milliseconds that she stood there looking at me, waiting for my response, I’d rather have been stripped naked, tied to the back of a horse and dragged through a field of thorny cacti.)
I blinked and felt blood rush to my cheeks as I gulped and avoided making eye contact with my husband.
“Um, I guess so, sure, why not,” I prattled on while hoping that someone, anyone would interrupt us and whisk me off to the dance floor. No such luck. Not another soul in sight. Because that’s the way life facking works. When you need a knight in shining armour they are all too busy getting plastered at the open bar to come and save you from awkward questions.
“How long did it take you to get used to having a new last name?” the bride innocently inquired as my husband stood there drilling holes into my head with his laser beam eyes.
“Uh, well you see,” I uncomfortably stammered, “I uh, never did change my name.”
“Oh.” The bride looked at Boo, waiting for his response.
Boo of course, took it as an invitation to jump on his soap box and lecture me before a captive audience, verbally lashing at me for years of prancing around with my maiden name.
“Like I said earlier, it is a true honor for a wife to take her husband’s name. It shows how much she loves him and blah blah blah.” I may have tuned him out having had this same lecture tossed at me for the duration of our eleven years of marriage.
The bride, being a graceful and sensitive soul, sensed my discomfort and offered to go refill my drink. I tried to go with her but Boo reached out and grabbed my arm, yanking me back to his side and almost tearing off my limb in the process.
“Ow,” I whined as I rubbed my arm.
“You once promised me you would change your name, Tanis. How long do I have to wait before that happens?”
I thought of being flip and snarky with him, but his big blue eyes stood looking at me, filled with curiosity and love and perhaps even a few flecks of disappointment. I decided to take another route. A more sincere route.
I stuck out my breasticles, batted my eyes and tried to look pathetic and torn. I hear men are suckers for that.
“I don’t know Boo. But I said I will, and I mean it. I just need more time to get used to the idea.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Ya. Cuz eleven years is such a short time. Gimme a break.”
Sensing this could quickly boil over into a full fledged argument, I leaned closer and breathed into his ear, “I will give you a break. But how ’bout I give you something else right now instead? Something a little more personal.”
Boo is a smart man and knows when to shut up and smile. He smiled down at me and grinned.
And that’s when I led him (like a horny little puppy dog) to the bar, shoved a beer in his hand and told him to drink up. Hopefully I could get him drunk enough to forget the whole damn thing. And I did. Heh.
Until the next wedding we have to attend.
I freaking hate weddings.
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So peoples, chime in. Did you change your name? For my three male readers, did you expect your wives to change their name? I’ve decided to let the internets settle this argument and see who’s right or wrong.
Everyone knows everything you read on the interweb is true.
qutecowgirl
Well I have been reading your blog for a while and I have agreed with almost everything except this. I agree with your hubs on this. I did change my name (honestly my maiden name was very close to hubbys so i didn’t see the problem) I thought of it as a chance to start new, kinda like a do over change things I didn’t like.
really it is up to you. Heck you could always hyphenate it
Miss Grace
I’m not married, so, obviously, still have my last name. That said, unless my husband’s name was actually awful, I’m not particularly attached to my last name, so i don’t think I would really care.
Michael Pelz-Sherman
My wife and I dodged this bullet by hyphenating our surnames. (I was Sherman, she was Pelz.)
I say the practice of wives taking the husband’s surname is outdated patriarchal bullshit.
Our kids are currently hyphenated as well. When they get married, they can retain the surname of whichever one of us they love more.
norm
I didn’t change my name. I was game, but my wife wouldn’t have it. She insisted on taking mine, which was a tremendous surprise to me. But she considered this a new start for her, and much as she likes her real name she wanted to put it behind her — plus she can’t abide hyphenation and didn’t want that issue to even come up for the kids. I can’t refuse her a thing, so I agreed.
Amanda Regan
I took my first husbands surname because it was foreign & to my ears sounded exotic. The added bonus was I could get rid of that last reminder of my “male biological parent” who has totally ignored me since I was 12 yet showered my younger sister with love & money.
I took my second husbands surname because our legal system here means it is just so much easier to do so not to mention cheaper.
When I get married next year I’m keeping my surname as my son has the same surname but I may get my fiances surname added so instead of just being Ms Black for example I’d be Mrs Black-Jones. It should be easier to just add the last name onto my sons surname too.
Your Brother(the one who beat you...oh shut up people)
i participated in the poll, that was fun lets do that again…i feel good about it too!
kittenpie
I figured that everything I’d ever done and my whole identity and life had been conducted in my own name, and it would just be too weird and inconvenient to change it. Not to mention it was a totally crummy combination of names with my first name. And the fact that my mom kept her name, so it seemed normal to me AND the fact that that meant I had the same last name as her and my grandmother, which I rather liked. So yeah, it wasn’t really something I was considering. Misterpie got over it, especially as he had plenty of warning. The compromise is our children get his last name.
Miss Britt
I never had a problem with changing my name.
Growing up, I had a different last name from my mom and two brothers. In fact, growing MORE up, my brothers, my mom and I all had different last names.
My son was born before I was married and had my husband’s last name – and there I was, odd man out again.
It was nice to have the same last name. It solidified, for me, that we were a family. The three (and now four of us) were bound, somehow.
jerry
My wife changed her last name when we got married, but I never expected or demanded it. I don’t think we ever really discussed it, it was just something she did.
Perhaps you should ask the hubby if he’s ever given thought to taking your last name.
MommyWho?
My maiden name was “Murphy”, my first name started with “S” so I had to deal with the nickname “Smurphy” in my high school years.
When I got married I gladly changed it… now people refer to me as “Mrs. Brownturd”
I’m screwed either way.
Angel
I got lucky-I was a Smith before, and I married a Smith. Uh, no relation, perverts! *grin*
It was pretty cool-didn’t have to change my license, my social security card, not even my bank account, ha. And it was *really* funny at the divorce hearing when they magistrate asked if I wanted my maiden name back and I said it didn’t matter, and why.
I’m getting married again in 2012. And I still won’t have to change anything, because it’s the same guy. *giggle*
Gina
I took his last name and was proud to do it. He was in the Navy & when we went to get his things out of the barracks, I was outside (not allowed to come up)and a buddy of his came out the door and said “Hi Mrs. *****!” I was so excited. But 20 years late, I still love having his last name, even though we always have to spell it for people. Say it, then no matter how fast you say ‘K’, they always start with ‘C’.
However… if you haven’t changed it in eleven years, I wouldn’t change it unless Boo really pushes the issue; which he obviously hasn’t. I think he just took advantage of the situation to try again.
Kyddryn
If I were more radical feminist I might ask “What’s the difference? Go through life with your father’s name or your husband’s, either way you are identified and valued for the MALE whose name you wear. We should get to choose our own names instead of being saddled with some patriarchal (redacted, ’cause it’s a bad word) denoting ownership, not partnership.”
Lucky I’m not though. I switched my maiden name to my middle name, thereby rectifying my heretofore middle-less name situation (my brother had a middle name and I was scarred for life by the iniquity of having none) and simultaneously giving myself a twenty-nine letter name (if I signed it in full, I’d get writer’s cramp) and making T happy because he IS something of an old-fashioned fella.
Sometimes I wish we’d compromised and each changed our name to a combination of our two monikers – why should the woman be the only one to do all that paperwork??
Shade and Sweetwater,
K (who is very much enjoying your blog)
Miga
I changed my last name. Both times. I kept my first husband’s name when we divorced so I would match my daughter. I changed my name this last time because my husband adopted my daughter and she took his last name. It’s just easier to have everyone with the same last name. Makes things at school alot less confusing. I did not keep any form of my maiden name because I wanted no part of my father and his family name attached to me.
pam
It wasn’t that important to my husband but it was important to me. In all of my many (many) years of feminism it all of a sudden became very important to do that for him. For what it’s worth.
Thumper
Eh, a name is just a name; I took the Spouse Thingy’s name, but not out of any grand idea of honoring him or because it’s what I was supposed to do. It just seemed easier in the long run, and truly, I don’t think it really matters. A rose by any other name, and all that crap…
Now, honestly, I wish I’d used my maiden name professionally…kinda late for that.
Jessica (from It's my life...)
I changed my name, but only because his was so much easier to spell and I couldn’t wait to never have to spell my long ass name four times to some salesperson on the phone who would still get it wrong anyway. Now I’m one of FOUR people who have the exact same name as me (first as last) in my tiny town alone. Bliss.
MeL - Stay At Aum Mom
See, as the daughter of a confirmed chauvinist, I got stuck with no middle name. Oh, all 5 brothers got middle names – meaningful, family names – but all 5 girls were stuck with binomial nomenclatures until we got married.
This was my Dad’s way of ensuring we’d keep the maiden name around as a middle name once we got married. Because, OF COURSE we’d change our names.
I gave it some serious thought when Big Daddy & I got engaged. I couldn’t WAIT to change my last name, but I even wanted to give myself a middle name and dump the maiden name altogether. Mostly, probably, to prove a point to my father. Then I found out that the state would let me take my maiden name as a middle name (or drop it if I had had a middle name I wanted to keep) but if I wanted to ADD a middle name that had not existed before I had to go through the whole name-change procedure, stand in front of a judge, etc. I said “screw it” and kept my maiden name as a middle name and gladly took my new married name.
In hindsight, now it’s just easier for the kids that we all have the same last name. But my last name was just my Dad’s last name to begin with, and I would rather have my husband’s last name. The whole thing is pretty patriarchal IMO, anyway. It would be cool if we followed the french tradition, where women take their mother’s maiden last name at birth while the boys take the father’s last name. The female line gets passed down as well that way.
Hmm. Haven’t given much thought to this, have I?
Maybe too much. Either way… meh. It’s YOUR name. Change it if you want, don’t if you don’t. I wasn’t attached to my maiden name – never felt like I fit in that girl’s skin. My married name, though, fits me like a glove. I know who THAT woman is.
iMommy
Ever think of hyphenating? That was my compromise. I wanted to have a part of him in my name, but I wasn’t willing to give up the name that I had held for so long. He was skeptical at first, but I don’t think it bothers him anymore.
Besides, we eloped and he forgot to tell his friends that we were married. He’ll never be able to live it down. He has no rock to stand on.
Becky
I had changed my name to match my mothers new married name when I was 12 – she divorced from him and got married to another guy so, I didn’t have an attachment to my maiden name. When I got married, I happily changed my name to signify our becoming a family.