I am a feminist, and I am getting married.
Yep, thats right. I don’t need a man, but I want a man. Well I want one man, in particular.
I know there are many, many reasons why feminists choose not to get married. In fact, for most of my life I never imagined the possibility for myself (but that is equal parts self loathing, and personal philosophy). Around the time the loverboy proposed, I was going through an existential crisis about marriage, the likelihood of FOREVER, and my life in general.
So when, some time ago, loverboy asked me to marry him, I said yes. Having considered my options during the previously mentioned crisis, I could say that marriage was what I wanted.
For me, it is the right decision. My current relationship has made me happy (check this opinion piece) and I have spent the last few years getting to know a lovely man. He helps me to become the best me (and no, he isn’t the best part of me). He is a wonderful partner (a little food for thought, more to come later on why this is my term of choice while being in a heterosexual relationship). We make a great team, and love fiercely.
The thing about my relationship, and my marriage, will be just that: mine. Before I sign the fancy piece of paper issued by the state, you will get to hear about my thoughts on marriage, equality, love, relationships, and trying to maintain feminist sanity in the realm of wedding planning.
Sorry this post is short and or late.. life and allergy season got in the way.
Cheers and love