I am a woman who is engaged to be married. But unlike lots of your friends who are busy posting photographs of their diamond engagement rings on Facebook, you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at my left hand.
This is because I told my fiancée many times before we got engaged that I wasn’t interested in getting an engagement ring at all, diamonds or no. There are a lot of reasons I feel this way, including my particular indifference to jewelry. “Honestly, I’d rather have an iPad,” I told him.
Diamond engagement rings are a translation of a much older sexist tradition of putting a down payment on one’s bride. This is, incidentally, still legally the case. In many states a bride-to-be can still sue her fiancée for breach of contract if he breaks off the engagement, as a Georgia woman did last year. After all, it is only women who are marked with an engagement ring as taken, suggesting that the balance of power doesn’t lie with the one who wears it. Keep reading »
This week, my husband and I sat in a real estate agent’s office and put our first ever offer on an actual house on an actual piece of land that we would actually like to own.
“You guys are legally married, right?” the real estate agent asked. We said yes, we are.
“Do you have the same last name?” the real estate agent asked.
It’s a question I’ve become used to answering, and one of the first I tackled in the weeks after Patrick and I got drunk at the lake one hot September weekend and decided to get married. Keep reading »
Had Patrick and I enjoyed the luxury of a gigantor wedding budget, there are some things that we did not get to have at our wedding but which we would have liked to have had. For me: a photo booth, more chairs, a custom dress. For Patrick: a second photographer, a videographer, a soft serve ice cream machine, a llama.
Yes, like a real, live, breathing and huffing llama. But only at the reception — obviously it’d be a distraction to bring in a domesticated South American camelid for the ceremony.
“It speaks to things for people to do, many more things to make it fun for people,” Patrick explained, intent on convincing Hitched readers that he’s not secretly a third-grader. “Like a photo booth.”
But a llama rental probably would have doubled our $5,000 budget. So no llamas for us. And as it turns out, we managed to power through it and get married without one. Keep reading »
Your little nugget still shits her diapers, but that doesn’t mean she still isn’t being prepared for the most important role she’ll ever play in life: future bride. It’s never too early to start thinking about that ring on your finger. Seriously, Zulily.com, what are you thinking? A crystal-encrusted onesie advertising a newborn baby as a bride-to-be is all the proof I need the wedding industrial complex has gone haywire. [Jezebel]
You can read wedding magazines, and wedding blogs, and wedding everything, but you’ll almost never turn the page and see the marriage. Everything stops in a last, beautiful moment, blurred by sparklers or bubbles or birdseed as the (inevitably white, inevitably young, inevitably thin, inevitably straight) couple disappears into the back of a limousine, a horse-drawn carriage, or, if they’re very edgy, maybe a racy vintage sports car.
Having a wedding can be glamorous; certainly the Wedding Industrial Complex sells it that way. And being engaged is exciting. People send you pretty cards and congratulate you for being nothing more than very lucky. They ask you where they can go to buy you some presents so they can reward you for being in love. You are actively encouraged to brag about yourself. Everything builds up to the big day. Your perfect day! Your princess day!
And then … what? Keep reading »
The New York Times, ever concerned about the plight of the three people it takes to make a Style Section trend story, has identified a disturbing new tendency among women to … plan their weddings. But wait for it: they’re not just planning their weddings, they’re doing it on the Internet and they’re doing it while single.
The horrors, they are horrifying. Time to muster the judgment and disdain appropriate to the situation: these pathetic cases are wasting their sad-ass time, and their real human relationships are suffering for it, because using the Internet means shunning all human contact, only going outside once a week to get a gallon of milk and a bag of cat food. Keep reading »
Deciding to get married — or to get engaged, or to generally not ever split up with your partner and make this preference publicly known — is an exciting and big life decision. It’s also, like a lot of life decisions (see also: parenting, graduate school, switching to hard liquor), one that your friends, family and closest total strangers have some opinions about. And it is extremely important that they share all of them with you, quickly, right now, if you just have 10 minutes or several hours.
I genuinely enjoy talking about marriage and weddings — hell, I’ve made a point of doing it almost every week for more than a year here at the Frisky. But because of the shifting nature of marriage and wedding culture, generally in a more positive, inclusive and less-materialistic direction, I’ve found that it’s dangerous to assume anything at all after one has heard (or read, on Facebook, occasionally to one’s horror) the words: “We’re engaged!” Keep reading »
Last Friday night, Patrick and I took a break from drinking beers and talking smack about Mitt Romney to befriend two couples who happened by our neighborhood bar. They needed a place to sit; we offered to share our table. And as many newly engaged couples are, all four of them were a little bit … glowy. It was incredibly fun to hear about their wedding plans — we even may have talked one pair into holding a karaoke reception. But it also got me thinking about what I wish I’d known when “We’re getting married!” suddenly became a thing that was happening to me. Keep reading »
It sure doesn’t come as surprise to me that I’m getting married in a few weeks. After all, there was much to be done after we got drunk at the lake last Labor Day Weekend and decided to get married.
Patrick and I rented a venue, sent out save the dates and invitations, built a barfy-adorable “wed-site,” argued with our parents over the guest list, told grown-ass adults what kind of clothes to wear, created wedding registries and asked guests to donate to marriage equality organizations if they liked that instead, bought tablecloths, and arranged for a colleague to officiate the ceremony. I bought a dress, shoes, some really fun underpants and got my hair colored. All signs point to: wedding.
But I don’t think I realized I was actually getting married until I went with Patrick to get a custom shirt made for his wedding outfit. Why? Because that shirt cost more than my dress. Keep reading »