by Patrick Appel
Readers’ stories of their small, simple weddings continue to trickle in. The contrast with how wedding celebrations are typically depicted in pop culture is striking. There is nothing inherently wrong with big weddings (my own wedding, which I loved, wasn’t particularly small), but there is something perverse about how our culture focuses more attention on having an ideal wedding, which lasts a day, than on having an ideal marriage, which lasts a lifetime. Another reader shares:
Our family has a long history of avoiding big weddings. My husband’s grandparents ran off to New York City back in the 1920s and got married quietly at the Little Church Around the Corner. My parents were married back in the 1950s in my grandmother’s living room with no more than half a dozen participants (including the minister). Around the same time, my husband’s parents were married in a church with two friends of the bride in attendance as legal witnesses. In each of these cases, the decision to go small was based largely on family dynamics—the mother of the bride objected to the groom—but each of these marriages lasted for many decades until the death of one of the spouses. (And no, nobody was pregnant, in case you were wondering.)
So when my husband and I got married almost 26 years ago, we continued the family tradition and had an extremely small wedding of our own, saving a lot of money and stress in the process.
We gathered at the Justice of the Peace’s tiny office right across the street from the courthouse. The wedding party consisted of ourselves and four immediate family members. I wore a largely white summer dress, and my husband wore his suit. The Justice of the Peace was a veteran lawyer who clearly had done this many times before and played his part to perfection, even changing into a special suit coat for the occasion. That evening, we invited a dozen close friends and immediate family members to dinner and champagne at our favorite Afghan restaurant, followed by homemade cake and present opening at our apartment. I don’t remember how much all of this cost, but it was well under five hundred dollars. Everyone had a great time. And we’re still happily married today.
We sometimes joke about doing it all over again in a more scenic location like a beach or park, and I would definitely have invested a little more money in the wedding rings and gotten solid gold bands instead of bottom-of-the-line gold-plated ones. (Mine was so cheap and so light weight that it fell off my finger a few years later and got eaten by a lawn mower.) But we have no regrets about the size and scope of the wedding.
The funny thing is that even today, most people are shocked when I share this story with them. They simply cannot wrap their brains around the idea that a couple could possibly get legally and happily married with fewer than 200 people in attendance. Perhaps it’s time for us ultra-small wedding supporters to come out of the closet and let people know that it is possible to get—and stay—married without spending a lot of money.
Another reader’s story:
We held our wedding and reception in a community center located in a lovely historic building which cost us a quarter of what we might have spent to rent a generic room in a hotel. We had a potluck reception; rather than our friends and family looking down on us for not spending $50 or $75 a head for banquet food, they loved the chance to be part of the day and it added to the community spirit of the celebration. The food was great and the atmosphere festive. Be true to yourselves and trust those who love you to be happy for you. And if you think someone is going to judge you for how much you are spending on your wedding, is it really worth having them there?
Another reader:
After more than twenty years together, my wife and I found ourselves in Iowa (just after marriage equality arrived there) visiting friends, and got married in a simple ceremony with a magistrate. Our friends and family were irate: how could you have gotten married and not invited us?? So that fall, we had a blow-out wedding for almost 200 of our closest friends and family. I made the invitations myself. Generous friends with a big house and yard hosted, and we also set up a tent outside with tables and chairs for extra room. We asked for no gifts, but made the event pot-luck for local people (we asked out-of-towners to donate to our church’s food and clothing cupboard). We bought wine and beer, and a friend served as bartender. Another friend served as DJ. A couple of family members footed the bill for flowers, and another friend arranged them. Yet another friend took photos. Our church choir, which my wife directs, sang. The food was amazing, the music super danceable, and many folks declared it “the best wedding ever.” We spent about $5000 — for a wedding for 200, that included food and drinks!
Another:
It seems crazy to me that so many people let the intensely intimate act of committing one’s life and love to another person get overshadowed, or consumed, by so many distractions – how much to spend per guest, the politics of guest lists, selfish parents who insist in hijacking the ceremony for their own ends, etc. My wife and I ‘eloped’, but not in a sneaky way. We told (we did not ask) our families, friends and work colleagues we were doing it that way well in advance. We were married in New Orleans before a judge and 2 witnesses. Our wedding day was completely calm, stress-free and focused on each other. We had multiple celebrations with various family members over the next several weeks that were likewise intimate and memorable. Six months later we hosted a big party with a very relaxed guest list – we cared a lot less about who to include and not include for a cocktail party than we would have had it been an invitation to a wedding.
This was definitely not an economically driven decision. This was the way we wanted to do it. I would highly recommend foregoing the traditional wedding for a private exchange of vows and a party later for any couple. Who gives a rat’s ass what other people think about how you do it? It’s your moment as a couple, nobody else’s.
The Dish 