What’s the point of getting married? There is no point. Women can support themselves, men can do their own laundry, kids are raised by single parents, nannies and grandparents all the time and sex, well, that was never marriage’s strong suit anyway.
And yet millions of people do it. Despite the fact that nearly half of Americans under 30 believe marriage is heading for extinction, only 5% of those in that age group DON’T want to get married, according to Time magazine.
I’m one of those starry-eyed girls who really wanted to get married. Not for the white dress and the big party (though I did end up with a rad antique white dress–see photo above–and a killer party, replete with a pig on a spit and 16 adorable kids to walk me up the aisle). I wanted to get married because I wanted something that felt more permanent than the relationships I’d had. I wanted a family and I sensed marriage was a good construct in which to do that. I’d found someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And knowing that “forever” might be hard, I wanted glue, not velcro.
I have plenty of friends who argue that they don’t need God, a judge or a contract to stay committed. I respect that. But I wanted all of those: a God I’m still coming to terms with, a contract I know can easily be undone and a judge (or in my case a reverend) to seal the deal. Irrational? Perhaps. But I’ll say this: My husband wasn’t exactly leaping to the altar, but I’m confident our wedding day was one of the best days of his life. He did something he was scared of, it was big and he felt it. I loved his smile that day: joy, relief, wonder==at himself, at me.
He’s a pretty happily married guy now (Thorold, feel free to comment). And I count my blessings every day to be raising two beautiful girls with a guy I am crazy in love with, who I also get to call my husband. Corny, perhaps. But true. And totally rational.