Author: Trixx Zee
Marriage was never in my vocabulary, much less a wedding. By my mid-twenties, having to compromise with a partner wasn’t in me anymore. I had a great career in film marketing and was making enough to sustain myself, pay off my student debt, and help my mom. I was joyfully existing as a single person. The universe had other plans for me, though, and for once, good plans. I met someone special who brought more buoyancy into my world. I couldn’t deny that my life improved with him in it, even if I wanted to.
We talk openly about everything—the good, the bad, the ugly, the sexy, everything. Eventually, marriage came up. I told him I had no interest. It would cost me money to break up, which didn’t sound like a smart investment. He understood my point of view and told me his. For him, it wasn’t the religious aspect since he’s an atheist, but making decisions in emergencies and the extra respect we get were important to him.
After having a cancer scare and surgery, the part about making decisions in emergencies resonated with me more than ever. So, after knowing in my heart I was truly happy with him, I said I would consider it if he still wanted to. Shortly after, as he texted with his friends, he asked if we could get married so he could call me his wife instead of his girlfriend because that sounded so high school. I agreed.
If there was something neither of us wanted, it was a wedding. We’re introverts on a budget and didn’t want to invite people we never talk to just because we’re related. Our best-case scenario was eloping. We decided to do it on May 4th because that was when we went on our first date six years prior. Anticipating our families would be upset, we bought tickets to the East Coast for the following weekend to soften the blow. We planned a photoshoot in Malibu, and our cats would obviously be the ring bearers. For us, it was perfect. But it was too perfect. His parents called in April asking if they could visit us a few days before May 4th. After breaking down several times as we watched our perfect plan crumble, we decided we had no choice but to tell our families. We told them we had tickets to fly out the weekend after, but we clarified that we didn’t want a party. We kept it because his grandma couldn’t make it out. They were all ecstatic.
If there was something neither of us wanted, it was a wedding.
We decided to keep the marriage ceremony tight with only our immediate family. Some friends were upset about being unable to attend. It was hard to explain that nobody was invited to begin with. The day came, and it was an absolute blast with the small group of 30 people we chose to invite. As the celebration wound down and drinks were drunk, his family started spilling how excited they were for the massive party they had in store for us the weekend after.
Naturally, our first week married was spent with severe anxiety and arguments about the trip. My husband tried to be honest with his mom, but she became upset. How dare he not want to have a massive party for his wedding that he had specifically told her he didn’t want? This was everyone else’s party, which sadly is what many people told me a wedding was. So, my husband and I found a compromise. We would be there for three hours instead of spending a few days like initially planned, and we wouldn’t tell them until the day of. It was our statement. I found it extremely generous since I didn’t have a party with my extended family. It wasn’t fair that they got one and didn’t ask if I would like to invite mine. Go big or go home at this point.
I don’t know whose genius idea it was to throw us a party immediately after taking a red eye, but it was brutal. I wore the same hoodie and jeans from the plane because I barely had time to throw water on my face after a short nap and a two-hour train ride. Upon entering, we were greeted with a passive-aggressive remark about our secular ceremony. Politely ignoring that, I tried to find food since I hadn’t eaten in twelve hours. I am mostly vegan, and his immediate family knows this, yet there was nothing for me. I ate lettuce with the only vegan dressing I could find. The wedding cake they chose for us was also not vegan. I love sweets, especially if they’re supposed to be for me, so that was disappointing.
After sitting at a table quietly for two hours because nobody even tried talking to us—a combination of my lettuce plate and the fact that we might as well be strangers—my alarm rang. It was time to leave. We told his mom we had to leave because I had to work the next day, which wasn’t a complete lie but a desperate attempt not to hurt their feelings. On our way out, his sister asked if we saw the “vegan options” they bought for me hidden in the fridge—silly us for not raiding their kitchen. Immediately, I inhaled all the small muffins that could fit in my mouth. Probably because I was eating so desperately, his mom said she had bought cauliflower wings resting undisturbed in the freezer. It took all of me not to let out a scream that could have punched anyone within a twenty-mile radius. However, the time had come for us to leave. I was not about to miss the train over some cauliflower wings that should have been made already.
I could tell his mom noticed we weren’t happy. She told us we could do an Irish goodbye, given that they’re all Irish, so we did. We felt a giant weight off us sitting on the train. Our first week of marriage had been inundated with dread for this day, and it was finally over. This is not to say their hard work went unnoticed. There was a museum’s worth of pictures of us scattered everywhere. The table in their foyer had a basket for cards and another basket full of mints with Mint To Be and our names that made our eyes unintentionally roll. They decorated the tables and had freshly cut fruit that helped me survive. My husband had been clear about not wanting any of this. Instead of respecting our boundaries, they did what they wanted since it’s tradition and created the most awkward party I’ve ever been in. I can’t imagine what this would have been like had they known sooner.
We thought through everything together and decided to do what we wanted: a simple celebration. His family’s selfishness overshadowed our special occasion. Ultimately, seeing how much people respect others when veering off tradition felt like a social experiment. Some try more than others. At the end of the day, we’re happily married, and I still hate the words marriage and wedding. For anyone struggling with wedding traditions, do what makes you happy, and don’t apologize.
Trixx Zee is a Guatemalan-American introvert who still finds the energy to explore what this planet has to offer. She recently published a children’s book for her nephew, written by her and illustrated by her husband. When not writing or working, she plays video games and bugs her two napping cats.