I have a surplus of Matthews and Bryan/Brians in my world. There is room for no more. If you come to our wedding and you meet someone and think “oh damn, we were introduced but I can’t remember his name!” there is a 48.5% chance their name is Matthew or Bryan.
We met with the wedding officiant last weekend (it went smashingly by the way — she thinks we’re the bomb), and she was getting overwhelmed trying to sort out our family trees. “So your brother is named Matthew, and his husband is named Matthew, and both of your dads are named Bryan/Brian and there will be other guests at the wedding who are /also/ named Bryan and Matthew?”
Yes.
On our way home from brunch this morning, we stopped in at a furniture store to check out couches (now entering month umpteenth of our couch search). And the name of the model we’re thinking of getting?
Matthew.
For fuck’s fuck. 🙂
We are Matt. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.