Courtesy of the author
I have two photos of my unworn wedding dress saved on my phone. One is from a styled photo shoot my friend invited me to model for just three months after my engagement ended. The other shows the bride who bought the dress from me four years later, wearing it on her wedding day.
Like many women, I dreamed about my wedding for most of my life — the celebration, joy, and unity. But when I fell in love in my late 20s, and got engaged two years later, those dreams faded during our wedding planning process.
Our decisions, particularly our decision not to have children present, stirred strong opinions and tensions among his family members. Suddenly, there wasn't a lot of joy.
In the year leading up to our wedding, his mom decreased her communication with us. His sister-in-law decided not to attend. His parents hosted an engagement party with all of their friends, which ended in an argument about who was and wasn't on the guest list.
I started questioning my own desires. The societal norms surrounding weddings suddenly seemed meaningless. Despite my plea to elope, my ex-fiancé preferred the traditional approach. Ultimately, our relationship ended a month before the wedding — influenced by the stress and family tensions, though not solely because of them.
My experience isn't unique. Many women I know feel caught between traditional expectations and what they actually want.
I attended my high school friend's gorgeous wedding in Napa two years ago. Recently, she confided, "I wish we would have eloped." Despite a guest list that was half of what they planned, they ended up going significantly over budget. She also faced family pressure to exclude her father, with whom she was in the early stages of rebuilding a relationship.
Before I started planning my own wedding, I was swept up in the often-glamorized process. Once I began, I constantly worried that the choices my ex-fiancé and I made wouldn't meet the expectations of those we cared about.
Even though our guest list was larger than we initially wanted, his parents expressed disappointment that we weren't inviting more of their friends. When we opted for a pre-dinner blessing instead of multiple speeches, I wondered if we might offend someone hoping to say a word. Even selecting the menu felt like a test.
The weight of it all transformed what I thought would be an exciting chapter of our lives into a significant source of stress and anxiety. I didn't care about tents, dinnerware, or luxury portable restrooms; all I wanted was a meaningful celebration that truly reflected our love and values.
Two months ago, my new partner and I attended a wedding in Puerto Rico and met a lovely family from New Jersey during a food tour around Old San Juan. As we ate chocolate croissants and bonbons at our final stop, the husband and wife shared their elopement story.
The wife explained that they hadn't made any plans in advance and arranged the details once they arrived in New Zealand. As I listened to their story, I felt inspired by their carefree approach to love and commitment. She pulled out her phone to share photos from their wedding day. They looked content, relaxed, wholly present — exactly how every newlywed should feel.
I'm 40 years old and nine years removed from the wedding that wasn't. I've been in a wonderful, loving relationship for nearly four years. I keep those two pictures of my wedding gown to remind me of its beautiful evolution — and mine.
I still want to get married, but without the fanfare. These days, my dream wedding looks simpler and much more joyful. There will be no engagement ring, announcements, or registry, guest lists, flower arrangements, or caterers. Just us and the birds, somewhere wild and wide-open. And of course, a tasty slice of cake. If there's one wedding tradition worth keeping, it's definitely the cake.