By Emily Erickson
Reader Columnist
I never really imagined I’d get married. Like many in my generation, I was the product of divorce. But even before my parents’ separation, I was living in a family; and, at a time when unhealthy relationships felt like the norm.
In fact, according to a 2012 study in The Journals of Gerontology, at the time Millennials were growing up and coming of age — between 1990 and 2012 — divorce rates among people our parents’ age more than doubled.
If it wasn’t the shouting matches between my parents, it was the mutual and poorly concealed resentment between my grandparents or another TV sitcom with a bumbling husband and an overworked wife. It was the announcement of another friend’s family breaking up because “he cheated,” “she let herself go,” “the kids moved out” or (enter classic ’90s/aughts divorce trope here).
Because of this, I never pictured it for myself. I entered the dating world with a heavy skepticism of lifelong partnership and felt no urgency in finding my “forever partner.” This lack of urgency seems common among my generation, with only 44% of millennials aged 23-38 married in 2020, compared to 81% of the Silent Generation at the same age. Similarly, a 2023 Pew Research Center report noted that a quarter of 40-year-old millennials have never been married — an all-time high.
Although skepticism was my primary reason for joining my peers in being historically late to the “settling down” party, outside factors were also delaying my cohort’s nuptials. As Erin Prater summarized in a Fortune Well article, “Millennials have historically been less enthusiastic about marriage and childbearing than their parents, or have at least delayed the milestones while they prioritize their careers and their finances. Two recessions before midlife, a subpar job market post-graduation, massive student loan debt and a housing affordability crisis certainly haven’t helped matters.”
Despite my reluctance, I spent my 20s getting clarity on what I wanted from a partnership — not focused on marriage, but on what I wanted (and didn’t want) from a person with whom share my life with. (Yes, that’s a nicer way of saying, “I wove my way through a bunch of ‘not-right’ relationships in order to discover what a ‘right’ relationship looked like”).
I created a life I loved for myself and then found someone who made it even better.
Now, after six years together, my partner and I are getting married, despite not thinking I would. But, somewhere along the way, I realized that getting married and getting married to a person are very different things and that my partner and I can define our relationship in whatever way we want.
So, I’ve spent the past few months planning a wedding — a wedding I hadn’t spent teenage years dreaming about or my young 20s imagining — making a lot of the decisions a lot easier.
“No, we don’t want a first dance”; “Yes, we want all the desserts”; “No, I don’t want to be ‘given away’”; “Yes, bubble guns feel important.”
Although we’re bucking tradition and conventional ideas at every turn — a hallmark of our generation — the most millennial thing about our wedding is the cost. Like every other milestone in our lives, the cost of weddings at the time we’re getting married is at an all-time high.
Each year, The Knot Real Weddings Study reveals the average costs (with related expenses) for weddings across the United States. According to data from 2023, the national average cost of a wedding was $35,000 — a $5,000 increase from 2022’s average of $30,000, and a 25% increase from 2019.
Driving up these costs are, of course, nationwide inflation raising the price tag on many goods and services in the wedding industry, leading to an overall rise in total wedding expenses.
Idaho is, in a list where being on the bottom is a good thing for a change, among the cheapest states in which to get married in (tied with Montana at an average cost of $20,000 per wedding), only slightly more than the cheapest state, Utah, at $17,000. Meanwhile, weddings in Washington and Oregon average $30,000; and, with California at $41,000, that drives the average cost of weddings in the West up to $33,700.
Major contributors to these costs include the venue, with an average price tag of $12,800, wedding photography ($2,800), florist services ($2,800), the wedding dress ($2,000) and catering at an average of $85 per person in attendance.
Luckily, my partner and I have found a lot of ways to help lower the cost of our wedding — a backyard venue, homegrown flowers and lots of DIY.
Alongside our home-baked dessert table and garage-crafted Giant Jenga, we’ll be workshopping our vows. On our big day, we won’t be saying “‘til death do us part.” Instead, we’ll exchange promises along the lines of, “‘til death of mutual respect, ‘til death of kindness, of being each other’s biggest fan, of curiosity and playfulness and of being on the same team.”
(And, of course, we’ll fight the barely suppressed millennial urge to begin it all with, The Princess Bride: “Mawwiage is what brings us together, today.”)
Emily Erickson is a writer and business owner with an affinity for black coffee and playing in the mountains. Connect with her online at www.bigbluehat.studio.
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