I’ve never really fancied the idea of marriage or being someone’s wife. But I am very much in love with my partner of 13 years. So, to celebrate, we decided to throw a ‘non-wedding’, instead. We’d always loved going to weddings together but always felt it wasn’t really ‘us’. But one thing we knew we wanted was a party. Yes, I wore a white dress, there were speeches, there were even tears… but no vows were exchanged, and no legal contracts were made. We chose a bar that was strenuously quirky, shamelessly kitsch and served the strongest cocktails in South East London – which suited our non-traditional event perfectly.
Some called it a commitment ceremony.
Some insisted on still calling it a wedding.
Some said we were “having our wedding cake and eating it”.
But on the invitation, we called it a ‘Til Death do us Part-y’.
“Women are not props for men’s egos.”
We’re a 30-something heterosexual couple – we call each other ‘partner’ and we live together in a traditional way. So, what prompted the decision to not tie the knot?
Well, both sets of our parents are divorced, so it’s fair to say that we’ve not seen marriages lasting until the “death do us part” bit. Although our parents are all happy now, either in new relationships, married again or happily dating, statistics showing that nearly half of marriages end in divorce didn’t exactly make us want to rush out and book the registry office.
It's actually our friends who have shown us that there are lots of ways to be in relationships, whether they are straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, non-monogamous or asexual. Don’t get me wrong, most of our friends are married or want to be married, but seeing other partnership styles has changed our perspective.
Granted, I’ve come to this decision through a long-term relationship lens. Would I be a hard-no on marriage if I was single or dating? I’m undecided. I do think it’s difficult for single people living in a world set up for couples. From single supplements in hotels to getting a mortgage, doing adult life is often easier and cheaper if you’re coupled up. When civil partnerships were brought in as an option for heterosexual couples in 2019, I remember being excited. But as the years have gone on, we felt like it was marriage by a different name. It’s something we might explore in the future, and particularly if we choose to have a child as things can get legally complicated (and don’t get me started on what happens to your partner’s pension if you’re just cohabiting and one of you dies – bye, bye pension). But I’m hopeful that the law will adapt to changing times before we reach that stage in life.
Our party wasn’t a finger up to those who are married, and we didn’t want to disrespect religious unions. You do you when it comes to “I do”, I say. In fact, I will admit that we got carried away with the more wedding-y bits of the day. I wore a white dress (ok, two), and I got a make-up artist and had my hair done. My partner, Steve, got a bespoke suit and we both had hen and stag ‘don’ts’. We even created a tongue-in-cheek video with a filmmaker friend that saw us in full wedding outfits – hinting that we’d got hitched. On the day, we had speeches to honour our relationship and future. Steve had a group of Best Women to embarrass him, I had a left-hand woman to help me keep my sh*t together and we had our friend expertly MC the event. We even had tears from Steve’s “un-emotional Northern” dad who said the day was filled with more love and laughter than most weddings he’d attended.
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Our venue was in the bold, brash, and largely indescribable Little Nan’s cocktail bar in Deptford. About as far from a traditional venue you could get, basically. Think EastEnders merch, fairy lights and Sports Direct mugs! Another tradition we skipped on the day was the ring exchange (we got tattoos instead!), but for the last six years I’ve worn a ring that Steve’s maternal grandma gave to us before she died. Initially she wanted Steve to propose to me with it, but we’d always explained to her that although we loved each other – we didn’t want to get married. She gave us her blessing by her hospital bed. It’a huge regret of ours that she wasn’t there at our party.
In fact, we would never have forgiven ourselves if we didn’t bring our parents and friends together while everyone is still fighting fit. Because part of the reason for our party was for the photos and the memories. And you can do that on a budget. We’re savvy spenders and knowing that the average cost of a UK wedding is £20,775 made us wince. I’m not going to pretend we’re not feeling a little financially worse for wear right now, but our budget was nowhere near that – and we’re starting our non-married life without debt.
Not getting married isn’t a comment on our lack of commitment to one another. We have a flat (and a cat!) and I’m proud of our life together. One thing that not getting married has made me aware of is how much I need to nurture my non-romantic relationships. If you’re in a LTR, try your single life on again for one day a week, you never know what may change in life and you should always flex your solo muscle.
What’s next? A non-eymoon, an un-Christian christening, a fun-ureal? Sometimes it’s good to say “I don’t” to tradition, and only keep the bits that are important to you.
Gina Martin breaks it down.
