Let’s start with some statistics.
Cost of the average American wedding in 2012 = $27,000 (not including Honeymoon).
Cost of the average New York wedding = $65,000.
Median U.S. income = $45,000.
Dollars generated by the wedding industry every year = $30 billion.
That includes dresses, elaborate engagement photos, groomsmen gifts, monogrammed handkerchiefs, signature cocktails, bachelorette parties. The soul/love/capital crushing process has been dubbed the “wedding industrial complex,” a cold term that connotes just how effectively capitalism has insinuated itself in an institution supposedly characterized by love and other priceless emotions.
The wedding industrial complex is not without its detractors: Jezebel has entire category devoted to deriding it [...]
Connie became pregnant, but my belly did not grow of child but of wild. And where her baby attached to her and sucked the life source, dormant things grew in me that only fed to feed again. And where her skin smoothed with life, mine grew sallow of contempt. And where she could no longer bring her knees or forehead to the floor in prayer, I made rakat after rakat in empty servitude—bargaining, reasoning, demanding. The single prayer I said was the baby prayer, the fastening prayer, the mooring prayer, the prayer that said I deserved more than what was received.
It reads like a smack-you-in-the-face-beautiful prose [...]
I'm in recovery from a year and a half of sleeping with someone who manipulated me into doing things I wasn't comfortable with, told me I was worthless, decided he didn't want to be exclusive (I didn't either) but deserved to know in explicit detail about any hookups I had, and didn't listen when I said no about anything ever. So he was bad for me, and I said goodbye four months ago and haven't talked to him since.
So, he was a jerk, and also I was bad at communicating. He'd ask if I like something, and I'd say "not really," and he'd do it again and tell [...]
When I was three years old, my mom used to take me to the library, find me a pile of books, and let me sit and read for up to an hour while she went and browsed the stacks. When I was 14 years old, I made my mom paint my room black, and I spent a lot of time watching The X-Files and being mortified by her. But she never forgot that I could also be that first kind of patient, inquisitive girl, even when I insisted on listening to Walkmen tapes of Queen’s Greatest Hits while hiking in Glacier Park.
Like so many of us, I didn’t fully [...]