The cashier at the grocery store wants to set me up with her grandson. She doesn’t know his actual age (“in his thirties”) and he lives in Chicago (“Mol, it’s only an hour away!” –yes, by PLANE) but also, his last name is Brown. So when I marry Mr. Brown – because who are we kidding, I obviously will – my married name will be Molly Brown, as in the Unsinkable Molly Brown from the Titanic. Upon marriage, I think I will change my entire name to include the entire title: The Unsinkable Molly Brown from the Titanic. It’s catchy.

I didn’t think a last name could get worse than that of The Kid’s (his starts with an M and sounded HORRIBLE with my first name; think Molly Maguire, Molly Malone, Molly Mercer, etc.) but alas, I have found it. And since I can’t imagine a name that could feasibly sound even worse, we’re obviously meant to be.

I have his “computer numbers” (email address – bless her heart, the cashier is in her eighties) and am supposed to make the first move. The Brother thinks I should open with the bit about his last name because guys find it endearing and not at all scary when a girl tells tales about impending marriage and future plans. I think he’s right.