I Want My Last Name Back

Last night, my best friend and I are ice skating outside an Italian restaurant. Never mind that there isn't any ice.  And never mind that maybe we've had 6 Merlots between the two us. It's fun, and it's nice to be able to stop stressing, even for a little bit, about my predicament.  But even cooler is the fact that someone actually has come outside to watch us. My best friend does an incredible camel spin, and I've been working on my Russian split, so I can't say that I am surprised we are drawing an audience. But this guy is actually kind of cute.  And even cooler is the realization that this guy has an internal pocket protector. 

So, we talk. We connect over politics and law.  And before I know it, it's the end of the night, and he takes out his phone.  He pulls up his "contacts" screen, smiles at me, and says, "So, what's your last name?" I stutter. "Um, well, I can't give you my last name right now."

He hangs his head in dejection.  I get frustrated, "No, you don't understand. I want to give you my last name, but I can't right now."  Because if you google my full name, it will pull up my illustrious involuntary porn star career. 

As expected, he is confused, but I tell him that he will understand someday. And so, he tells me that he will be at the same place, at the same time, next week.  And I say, "Okay."  

Then, I go back for one last Russian split on the pavement, and as my best friend crashes headlong into me, I realize how much I miss being friends with my last name. It's the little things in life, you know?