Many, men in particular, treat this as a big joke. But if you're a woman, this is an important milestone in determining your true identity, perhaps for the rest of your life. Think about this one. If you choose the wrong name, or you don't clearly choose a name, it can haunt you forever.
Waffle on this issue, and you could find yourself in the situation of one of this book's coauthors. You might have your driver's license in one name, and tax return and Social Security form filed in another.
"Sign your name here," somebody tells you. You have to stop dead in your tracks. What is your legal name? What does it mean? Should you add your spouse's name to yours with a hyphen? Should you take your spouse's name and subtract your own name. What if you've already been married previously? Should you have the last name of two husbands, or go back to your original birth name?
The NOW Legal Defense and Education Fund in New York notes that at least three state attorney generals-in Maine, Michigan, and Wisconsin-have issued opinions permitting men to adopt a woman's name at marriage. Plus, it says, the Equal Credit Opportunity Act gives a woman the right to keep a credit account in her birth surname, her husband's surname, or a combined surname.
Meanwhile, whatever name you take could well influence that of your children. Nobody, it seems, really cares which name you give them-unless the two of you disagree-which, we hope by now, you do less frequently. In disagreements, courts almost always rule in favor of the father, NOW reports.
Deciding on a married name is a tougher call than one thinks. Take the authors of this book.
"Hello, Mr. Liberman?" telemarketers said to the male coauthor, when he married the other coauthor and moved into her Florida condo. "Yes," he'd respond, not wishing to spend the time discussing the error.
Then, he'd get off the phone and grouse to his spouse-coauthor. "Why don't you just change your name?"
So, his spouse did change her name-at least on Social Security and for the IRS and on her medical plan-stuff that nobody sees. The driver's license stayed "Liberman" as did the professional name. It wasn't worth tossing career recognition built up over 25 years, she reasoned.
Problems:




