I work in a small office with a bunch of busybodies, so, naturally, word got out that I got married. That's fine, I don't really care. A few weeks before the wedding, a woman I had never met knocked on my door and started talking about having advanced degrees and women changing names and all sorts of other nosey things. At one point, she asked, "So what's your FI's last name?" Against my better judgement, I told her, and, knowing where the conversation was headed, said, "But I'm keeping my name after we get married."
I'm not, exactly, but it was easier to say I'll (eventually) change it personally but will continue to use my maiden professionally.
So, of course, this woman says, "I'm going to call you Dr. Hislastname."

....No, bitch. That's--no. What? Why? Why would you do that?
I put the incident out of my mind, since getting married was my priority and everything else was just the pea under the mattress.
This morning (my first day back), my boss said, "Congratulations, Mrs....?" And I said, "It'll be Dr. Blonde. I haven't decided to change it." So I am not sure why I came back from lunch today to find that my office placard had been replaced with Atomic Hislastnamemisspelled, PhD.
....
Sigh. The honeymoon is over.
"And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won’t just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me..."
--Philip Pullman