A few weeks ago, my boyfriend proposed to me. I had expected it for a few months. We’d talked about rings and wedding plans already, but he managed to take me by surprise when he popped the actual question.
After the smooching, giggling and calling Mom and Dad to let them know, it was time to come out publicly as engaged. So I turned to the place every good modern couple announces their engagement: social media. On Tuesday morning, I asked my boyfriend to hold my hand, and, with the ring prominently displayed, snapped a picture. I posted it to Instagram after agonizing over the filter (I picked Juno because it didn’t make my skin look red or wash out the ring), and the caption: “Guess whaaaaat???”
And in doing so, I joined the ranks of twentysomethings who have splashed their nuptials across social media.
Maybe I should take a step back and say that for a long time, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get married. So many of our traditions surrounding marriage are steeped in patriarchal concepts of women as property. The man asks the father for permission to propose, the father “gives the bride away” and responsibility for the woman is passed on to her husband. So many Western wedding traditions reinforce this idea, even the fact that the woman wears an engagement ring but not the man. I am marked and he continues his life unchanged.
With social media, we’ve added a layer of shimmering veneer to the whole affair. I can think of a dozen high school classmates whose weddings I didn’t attend, but I know the dress the bride wore, the color scheme, the setting all thanks to the albums that pop up in my Facebook feed a few days later. Women post pics of their sparkling diamond engagement rings to Instagram with romantic filters and strategic tilt shift blur. And even my single friends have wedding boards on Pinterest. Everything is beautiful and white and full of light.
For a long time, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get married. So many of our traditions surrounding marriage are steeped in patriarchal concepts of women as property.
Part of me wants to reject it all. Part of me wants to stop by the courthouse with my partner and sign some papers, no photographers involved. After all, I didn’t agree to marry him for the Facebook comments or Instagram likes. I’m marrying him because I want to pledge my commitment to the life together, to cooking dinners with him, to caring for him when he’s sick and whiny, to counting on him to clean the kitty litter when I forget. Our relationship isn’t about the perfect Instagram picture. It’s about snuggling while we watch cartoons, and playing silly word games on long car drives, and spending hours telling each other about sad stories from when we were younger.
And yet.
And yet, I set up a private Pinterest board of engagement ring ideas when we talked about getting married. I picked out my favorite designs and shared them with him along with little comments on what details I liked. We were able to discuss what we liked and disliked and collaborate on the choice.
And yet, nothing beats the ease of announcing your engagement than posting it to Facebook. When I asked Tom to give me his hand for the Instagram photo, he held it dutifully as I snapped several angles, and then he grabbed it, held it to his cheek, and with his biggest smile, said, “Now take one like this.”
In the photo, my arm was at an awkward angle, the ring is barely visible and Tom is weirdly off-center. It was just the B-side to my Instagram engagement announcement, but it’s one of my favorite photos.
Tom and I are going to have a marriage ceremony and reception, even though I still have qualms about the patriarchal origins of marriage and the artificial obsession with weddings on social media. But I like to think of our relationship as the B-side photo: Awkward, kind of embarrassing, not always picturesque, but full of love, adoration, support and commitment. The kind of things you can’t capture with a smartphone camera.
Header art by Maritza Lugo