Goin' To The Chapel

I was lounging by the pool, basking in the late afternoon sun, surrounded by good friends. I had a Corona in hand and a burger in my belly, and I was happy. It was a lovely day and I was relaxed. Not once did I anticipate being faced with an unshakable, undeniable aspect of my own femininity that would turn my world topsy turvy.

I was talking with the ferociously attractive Mizz JenBear, and we were remarking on how cool her boyfriend's last name is. Then, with a giggle, she threw me for a loop. She admitted that she put her special man friend's last name with her first just to see how it sounded. I thought I was the only one who did that! In secret!

Hello, my name is Grae, and I'm a Last-Name-Replacer.

I do this all the time. I do this with men I have crushes on, men I want to have crushes on but don't, and men I fantasize about marrying (not always the same dudes, by the way). This is all within the confines of my own head, though, where rules don't apply. In that space, it doesn't even matter that I am not immediately keen on the idea of marriage. It doesn't matter that I've only been seeing someone a little while, or that I know we're just bootie-call pals. I do it anyway, and I keep it to myself. If I mentioned my dirty little secret to my special man friend, I figure that he'd most likely spring to some action just at the thought of it, whether it's buying a ring or running like hell. Yessiree, I keep this tendency to myself, only for the purpose of seeing what my name sounds like with a different surname following it up. That's it. No unrealistic expectations, no pressure. Just for kicks.

Oftentimes, I think about marriage in the hypothetical just to see if something sparks within me. I think about what kind of dress would look best on me, but that yields the same excitement that normal shopping does. I imagine where the wedding would be held, and it only makes me want to go there to recreate. I was never one of those girls that dreamed of her wedding when she wasn't even out of braces...but I think that someday the idea just might seem right. So I try.

I mentioned this to the Mighty G last night as we were letting Zankou settle in our tummies. She freaked out because she does NOT do this, and hasn't "since the ninth grade." She claimed that if even I, her partner in feminine masculinity and empowerment, did this thing, then the Repo Man was surely headed to her house at that exact moment to reclaim her uterus and take away her Girl Card.

So needless to say, JenBear made me feel incredulous that my habit was shared. Then the Mighty G swooped in and reassured me that I was in fact a freak. A perpetually barefoot-and-pregnant, sappy, dish-washing, "Ricky, please let me be in the show"-ing freak.

The worst part is that no other last name really does my first name justice. Is this an omen? Or am I just so used to hearing MY name that a new one seems like unexplored, rocky terrain? I think there are some requirements for a new last name. I think it needs to start with a consonant dissimilar to any in the end of my first name. Two syllables or more works best, although one is acceptable. Nothing too whitebread, either. Italian names sound particularly good, although French ones work well too.

And a quick question to all of you, my darlings. Do I curse myself by playing this little game? Am I destined to grow old with nothing but cats to keep me company because I jinx my chances of getting hitched? Have I been setting myself up to fail? No one I've been with has asked me to marry them. That's not terribly depressing unless I think about it too much. So I'm going to move on to my next point.

Too late.

Maybe I should stop playing the Name Game and instead open myself up to this idea of marriage. Maybe I need to just surrender. Or maybe I should just wipe the slate clean and change my name for fun. Or, maybe I should eat some pineapple and watch I Love Lucy...

...or dr. phil. don't judge. g