A few months back, my sister and I were having what I think was a very interesting conversation. It was about last names.
Call us egotistical, but we are big, huge fans of our last name.
It's "Townes." In case you didn't know.
Our partiality aside, a lot of first names just sound nice and solid with Townes. We figured this out after our brothers (er, sisters-in-law) started popping out babies, and naming processes ensued.
In the meantime, we realized we are hardcore "last name judgers." Sometimes we don't even mean to do it; it just happens. At the time of this conversation, we both had boyfriends. After deliberating and pairing our first names with their last names, we concluded that both of their last names passed our test. Lucky them. J/K.
What the hell is wrong with us? Are we that shallow that we would really alter our opinion of a potential romantic interest based solely on their last name?
Well, no, of course not. But it would absolutely cross our minds. And I daresay we can NOT be the only females to have done this at some point.
I think deep down, every girl has a little bit of their 6th grade self lodged inside of them somewhere between their rationality and reason.
I meet a boy. I think he is cute. He doesn't annoy the shit out of me. I imagine how my name would sound with said boy's last name. That's a logical progression of events, right?....RIGHT?? I keep this to myself, of course, so as not to come off as a raving, obsessive lunatic who's contemplating marriage upon introduction, but essentially it is the grown-up version of doodling your name + his name inside of a heart on the pages of your wide-ruled 6th grade composition notebook.
I think I have pinpointed 2 reasons for my own ridiculous high-horse view on last names.
The first is because I like mine, and I know I am going to have to give it up upon marriage. And I'm doing it the old-fashioned way. None of that namby-pamby, feminist hyphenated bullshit. I'm ditching it altogether. So I don't want to go from one that I've loved for 20 some-odd years to one that sucks.
Secondly, my chosen career path is that of teaching. For the rest of my life, I will be known as Mrs._________ to class after class after class of obnoxious, brutal high schoolers.
Call me shallow all you want, but I am terrified of meeting my soulmate somewhere down the line, him being the owner of the worst last name in history, and me having to be addressed as Mrs. Crotch or Mrs. Dykehouser or Mrs. Weiner for the rest of forever.
If I eventually fall madly in love with one of the Gaylord Fockers of the world, obviously my phobia of awful last names will be laid to rest, and I won't let it interfere with an actual relationship.
Especially because I DO realize it's not anyone's fault or in anyone's control what their last name is. They've been stuck with it all their lives, bless their hearts.
I could say that my fears aren't out of selfish reasons, and that I'm just looking out for my future hypothetical children, that they may enjoy blissful, ridicule-free grade school days like I got to enjoy but that little Sally Bigglesticks did not.
But I'd be lying. I'm just a big fat superficial last name snob.