One Comment

  1. Anonymous

    I married for the first time very, very late in life (46) and much to my friends' surprise I changed my name. Not just the insertion of a cheeky hyphen and a spot of quick coupling to create the double barrelled effect, but a complete and utter change from a Richards to a Butler. Despite being a life long and committed feminist and having "views" about the patronym (why not the matronym?), this took no thought at all. For me changing my name symbolised the simple truth that having wasted too many tears and too many years kissing way too many faithless, warty toads, I had at long last kissed this lovely, kind, loyal, gorgeous man. The right man. My kiss didn't transform him from a frog to a Prince because he didn't need to change. He had been my friend all along and now would be by my side and in my heart for ever. My one and only husband.

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