When I was 19, I spent the summer as an unpaid intern in Toronto, and my boyfriend moved in with me. It was more a matter of convenience than any romantic notion of eternal bliss. Unfortunately, we grossly underestimated the cost of living… and grossly overestimated his employability. When he wound up toiling at minimum wage for a landscaping company, we knew it would be a summer on a serious shoestring. Thus, the decision was made to cut our losses and cohabitate, in an apartment so small that I could stretch my arms out and simultaneously be in the kitchen, bedroom and living room.
Maybe it was this, my first foray into the territory of an adult relationship, being more a matter of money than love, or maybe it’s the sadness I’ve seen in other couples when their own wedded bliss met an early demise, that makes me so emphatic about my own refusal to tie the knot. No matter what first provoked me, my initial decision has only been bolstered by the myriad of reasons I’ve come across that make me more than happy to permanently avoid the altar.
I’ll it, I often let my practical side overwhelm more whimsical fancies, but am I crazy to suggest that spending thousands on a wedding (and the accompanying stag parties and spa visits) might not be the most prudent financial choice for a young couple just eking out a living? Sure, I might rake in the gifts, but do I really need hand-painted Moroccan cutlery to dine in my IKEA-and-milk-crate-inspired apartment? Probably not. Studies have found that the average wedding runs upwards of $25,000. I can’t help but envision my future children, suitcases in hand, heading to university with their tuition paid by the dollars and cents that I didn’t spend on a designer gown, catered buffet for 200 guests, and staged black-and-white shots of my partner and I basking under a leafy tree. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not entirely devoid of human sentiment, and I it that weddings can be delightful affairs. What I fail to see is how one day of elaborate, romantic finery, or the resulting photo albums and gem on my finger, will really make or break my relationship. Romance and ion is not a day, a photo or a ring—it is partners who revel in the every day; a surprise picnic lunch, a neck massage, a wink over a shared inside joke. I worry that marriage would eliminate the spontaneity that I enjoy. Feeling forced to commemorate the same day, every year, seems a little contrived. I’ll take the surprise candlelight dinner “just because” over the night of fine dining “just because it’s May 10” any day.
Luckily, with my go-with-the-flow-yoga-loving father and family’s “we celebrate the Christmas of consumerism” approach to religion, the barriers to a marriage-free life don’t exist. For those who find themselves in a position where marriage is the only option, I can only ask two things: One, don’t blow your last penny on that silk veil lined with pressed flower petals – you will not find an occasion to wear it again. Two, that the romance isn’t in a wedding day, but in the person, and the memories you’ll make in the everyday.
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