I’ll Say It: Don’t Do a Name Change When You Get Married

It doesn’t start with the name change.

Today is some woman’s first Monday morning being engaged. She went into the weekend a girlfriend and came out a fiancée. She has replaced at least two nights of sleep, so far, with burning her eyes out on Pinterest, Instagram, and WeddingTok, having happily and temporarily raptured herself out of the fraught real world to focus on venues, gowns, and canapés. She spent the weekend making giddy phone calls and posting pictures, staring at the engagement ring on her hand until she got a crick in her neck. And the gifts! Her parents sent flowers. Her friends, champagne. Her coworkers are waiting this morning, with lattes, dying to hear every detail.

But when she gets home tonight, it will be there: The present that makes her pause. Is it from her future mother-in-law? I mean, we can’t say for sure, but yes.

It’s a hoodie. Or a Stanley. Or a box of stationery so voluminous she wouldn’t get through it in four Internet-free lifetimes. Whatever it is, it’s personalized with unfamiliar initials. A monogram that takes her a minute. Maybe it even says “Mrs.”

And it doesn’t feel right.

It’s always been curious to me that the discussion around a woman doing a name change when she gets married is one that starts with assuming she will. The question is caught in the same whirlwind as “When are you thinking?!?” and “Where are you thinking?!?” It’s approached as a joyful given, in a way that puts a double burden on the bride: If she’s not going to change her name, she must go out of her way to note that. She also risks dampening the mood, depending on the context. Often, then, the whole dialogue around name changing gets kicked down the road, with the bride smiling tightly through all the pre-wedding events. Not a chance in hell, she thinks, but I’ll deal with it later.

But later’s just as hectic. I’ve been around long enough to have witnessed dozens of friends get married, and I’ve been party to almost as many confessions of the weird dynamics surrounding this choice. Because so many decisions go into wedding planning, each with so many invested players, the bride’s identity can easily become a casualty of burnout—just another box to check, hopefully with minimal agita from anyone’s parents. When I was planning my own wedding, the amount of time I spent pondering changing my name was longer than I spent considering flowers but shorter than I spent doing Pre-Cana. I knew I didn’t want to do it, and my now husband was supportive, but it was treated almost like a secret. I wasn’t going to bring down the vibe by correcting anyone who called me “Mrs.” It was part of the fun, right?