Triathletes tend to be independent, progressive thinkers of fairly high intelligence. I’m not saying every triathlete fits this description, but more of my triathlete friends do than don’t. And most of them who didn’t get married young before they were set in their triathletic, independent ways have not been too successful at holding down a long-term relationship. They have a standardized routine, their own space, and a hard time allowing anyone to mess it up.
So what does this have to do with my ambivalence about taking my coachancé’s last name? Coachancé and I have been conditioned on the “give-and-take” side of life through college living; we didn’t have much trouble continuing to live this way as graduation wasn’t that long ago. We’ve never really had our own spaces, and have been changing up our routines on a semester system for several years. I want the heater on, coachancé doesn’t want to pay for it. So the heat comes on in one room of the apartment, designated as “Celia’s Sauna”.
So with all this lovey dovey give and take stuff, it seems like the issue of the married last name shouldn’t be an issue. Traditionally, the man gives the name, the woman takes the name. Case closed. But being one of those difficult people who’s a feminist when it comes to women’s rights, but likes dudes to open doors and lift heavy things for me, I can’t just accept this societal convention.
As far as I can tell, the tradition stems from the fact that a woman was once seen as a man’s property. When she married him, she became his, and the last name change signified just that. Their children were also his and took the man’s last name.
The February 2008 issue of 
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