I didn’t consider how inconvenient wearing an engagement ring could be. I can’t brush my teeth without the butt of my toothbrush rolling the ring around on my finger. I can’t stick my left hand into my pants pockets without the ring catching. My hand is cramping from holding my thumb at an awkward angle to play with the band.
But these are little things in comparison to my near-all-encompassing desire to create a wedding that will be convenient in timing, season, location, etc. to family and friends of my fiancé and mine, despite the fact that those family and friends all live an average of nine or ten hours away—many much more than that. Getting married where we want to is simply inconvenient to many of our guests.
When we started dating, my now-fiancé said he never wanted to be a burden to me, that since we were starting out dating long distance, he didn’t want our calls to feel like an inconvenience. My response was that this relationship was the most welcome inconvenience.
Tumblr user jupiter-suggestion wrote once, “I want to be inconvenienced by you. I want to wait for you, I want to hold your things while you do something else, I want to make adjustments to my plans to make space for you. Someone at your side who takes up no space and has no needs of their own is not a person, but a shadow. I don’t want a shadow, I want you. I want my life to be altered by your presence in it. Please, inconvenience me.”
Yes, I will be stealing that quote for my vows. In an individually focused society, ceremonies and parties where everyone you love comes together are few and far between—this is not my personal preference, just a disappointing fact of life. I would love to travel to be with my friends to celebrate their new jobs, help them move into their new homes, discuss at length what it felt like to go on their first date in over three years. Maybe I still can do that. But a wedding is one of the few ceremonies that society deems all right to ask people to fly or drive across multiple states to celebrate. And that is a rare opportunity I don’t want to waste, inconvenient as it may be.
Wearing my engagement ring may be a bit inconvenient, but if that is all it is, I wouldn’t have just bought a rubber replacement so I can still have something on my ring finger when I work out or play soccer. I wouldn’t need my ring on to fall asleep at night. My engagement ring—like my wedding—is full of so much more meaning than just a band of metal and a stone.
I’ve spent twenty-four and a half years being inculcated with how important my wedding day is, by society and/or movies like Bride Wars, 27 Dresses, and The Wedding Planner. It is difficult for any couple who is attempting to only do this thing once to avoid putting the party on a pedestal. It can feel like every decision—every “yes” to a catering choice, florist, photographer, and venue especially—is a renunciation of every other alternative. If you have a chocolate wedding cake, you’ll never have a vanilla one. If you wear an A-line wedding dress, you’ll never wear a mermaid cut. If you get married far away and not everyone can be there, you probably won’t get a do-over event where everyone you love will come.
Eventually, all these decisions will be made, though. For better or for worse. Thankfully, the one decision, the one “yes,” that really matters was the choice to marry my fiancé, and to commit to a partnership for the rest of our lives. And that is a renunciation of every other alternative that I am very happy with. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health.
Carlisle Patete (‘22) came to Calvin University from the mountains of North Carolina and graduated with a double major in film & media and creative writing. After brief stints in Los Angeles and Chicago, she now resides in Chattanooga, Tennessee, where she enjoys sweet tea on her front porch and identifying every tree and bird she runs into on any hiking trail.
