A couple of weeks ago (Oct. 4), my longtime boyfriend, Ian, and I snuck off to the mountains of Asheville, N.C., where we got married (barefoot) in a creek. In a really private ceremony: Besides us and the woman who married us, the only two other people in attendance were the photographer and the officiant’s husband (North Carolina requires two witnesses.) On our drive back, we called our family and friends to surprise them with the news. They were excited for us—even more so when we assured them we’d be throwing a huge party a few months from now.
A few people have asked me if I would change my name, since Goodchild was so, um, “unique,” to which I replied with a resounding “YES!!!” My entire life I have been called “bad child,” “devil child” (I have no idea where these nicknames came from, I swear), been asked incredulously if that was really my name, and have had to craft polite responses to “And are you a good child?” as though it was the first time I had ever been asked such a hilarious and witty question.
But now, according to the U.S. Social Security Administration at least, I am Megan Morris. So bring on the quips. After nearly 30 years with Goodchild, I can handle anything.