I never wanted to be married because I didn’t want the engagement.
The period of waiting to be married that involves gleefully tormenting those who aren’t. The time when you bask in the glow of your status with excitement and fairytale alliance.
Who needs it?
I never wanted to be married because I didn’t want want the engagement ring. I’m not obsessed with diamonds and I would never wear a huge piece of crystal on my finger and walk around like a million dollar girl.
More like a girl trapped in a bedazzled nightmare. Not my thing! I don’t need a ring — I want the promise of a lifetime dramatized in private.
I never wanted to be married because that white dress attire or off-white option is so unappealing.
First off, that palette isn’t my favorite and second the idea of wearing a dress that is designated as my virginal entry — into a world that I’m supposed to embody with witnesses gawking and judging my every step — is revolting.
Walking down the aisle to the tune of my choosing — made up like a shelved doll with live accompaniments surrounding me — and an audience poised for the moment that I trip and fall into the director’s cut — sounds like a hell I will gladly avoid.
I never wanted to be married because I don’t give a fuck about ceremonial habits under the sky of a God that I don’t even understand or know all that well.
I don’t need to feel like a woman desired — with the addition of another name to mine. I don’t need to feel special and normal because a man is wearing the symbol of our union on his finger — when I’m watching. I don’t feel the pressure to give my parents their dream come true at the expense of my personalized view. I don’t have the patience for staging a splashy affair in the hopes that the outcome will quench my desperation.
I just need to be married.
And it will be to the guy who joins me in celebrating the fact that we escaped being married to get married.