I wasn’t like most brides. Unlike my school friends, who adored playing kiss-chase and using their blazers as veils and the chalk hopscotch outline as an aisle, I was more interested in reading and making up stories than dreaming about weddings. As I got older, I was able to use countless examples of the unhappy marriages I had seen around me as an excuse for my wannabe Carrie Bradshaw lifestyle. Receiving a Facebook notification about schoolmates getting hitched never moved or bothered me. And when I heard about glamorous six-figure, three-day wedding parties in Greece or Morocco, all I could think was: “Isn’t the bride tired?”
Most importantly, there wasn’t a practical incentive for me to be married. Five decades ago it would have been helpful, as I would have needed a husband to even have a bank account, but thankfully things had changed so much that marriage wasn’t a necessity.
