Years of feminist theory, my inner struggles over critical gender issues (such as who should open the door for whom), individualistic goals to achieve power and prestige in order to bolster the cause of womankind – poof! Vanished, in an instant. In this moment, described by couples as a “love conversion” or by single persons as a “dark night of the soul,” the surging hormones in my mind proceeded to contemplate such dangerous questions as these: Why am I so caught up in this “feminist” thing? Male or female, what does it matter?

What does it matter?!! The ideological side of my brain had awoken and was looking to pick a fight with my heart over the problematic construct of gender reinforced in marriage.

My heart cross-examined: Why do you hold such anger and bitterness over something as beautiful as love?

My brain was in no mood to listen to such a weak, easily swayed, pheromone-altered organ, but my mind felt powerless to stop it all from happening: years of gender discourse on nature-versus-nurture were being washed away by an attractive, masculine tsunami hitting my feebly-constructed feminist shanty¹.  My preconceived notions and ideological viewpoints were beginning to dissolve at an alarming rate.

The frightening reality is that we’ve all thought about it. We’ve all found ourselves staring wide-eyed at the ceiling in the wee hours of the morning trying to stop ourselves from thinking about it. We feel so guilty about having thought about it that perhaps we deny how much we think about it to others. Those who pretend they have never thought about it are probably the ones who think about it the most.

And you can even picture every gory detail, from the gold embossed lettering on each vellum-coated card stock name card to the freshly cut flora adorning the tables. Twenty tables because we’d need to seat ten to a table, and we would be looking at a small wedding – about two hundred guests. You picture the dress: white. You picture the guy: dashing. You can even picture the wedding night: Disney magical².

It doesn’t take much. All of this, and I wasn’t even in love.  I wasn’t even on a date.  I just caught a glimpse of the³ guy.  I was lucky this time.  This was only a minor encounter, yet I could still see my feminist views flash before my eyes.

I only divulge this information as a warning: years of carefully-constructed theories can be washed away in an instant if you’re not careful.  So, like any good Girl Scout knows, you can never be too prepared. With this in mind, I felt it was necessary to create a list to remind myself of the reasons why I can’t get married.

I can’t get married because:
1. I need to accomplish everything I have ever wanted to accomplish in my life before I can get married.
You may be thinking this sounds a little backwards – marriage is only the beginning! The beginning of a better life shared with another! However, the reality is: well, see #2 for what the reality is.

2. After marriage I will most likely get pregnant and then do nothing but obsess over which organic baby food to purchase.
That, and which stroller fits his/her individual baby style, what bedroom color suits his/her personality, which university he/she will attend and how prematurely he/she will sexually debut.

3. I need to exhaust myself with work in the field of study I have pursued or I need to exhaust myself by doing work that I hate, in any field.
This of course is so that when I do have children, I will think there is nothing more relaxing than building forts. Out of couch cushions. On an hourly basis. Every. Single. Day.

4. I’m not thin enough.
Now, I don’t mean this in a “no guys will want me,” “tell me I’m pretty,” blah, blah, blah, kind of way. I’m talking about the very real statistic: women gain an average of fifteen pounds after marrying due to lifestyle changes and sit-down meals. Therefore, to break even post-marriage, I would need to preemptively lose weight to counterbalance the impending weight gain.

5. It could be a year and a half, at least, before I achieve my ideal body which would allow me to put on a few extra “marriage pounds”* without looking like a bleached whale (due to skin tone, typo intended).
(*Explained in #4, if you’d read more carefully.)
Since I am not currently dating anyone, this time frame is only calculating when I will be physically ready to begin dating.  Conservatively, at least another year should be added in order to accurately prepare for the oncoming weight gain as a result of stress during the wedding planning stage and finally, the first year of marriage.

6. I have a job right now, so I don’t have the time to put in the necessary effort to attain sculpted honeymoon-ready bodily perfection.

7. I look unattractive when I have the flu.
Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror whilst in the throes of the worst flu of your life?  Do you really think another person (besides your mom) will want to look at you? No. No one does.

8. I need to go to grad school to study feminist theory in order to squelch my natural desire for marriage and children.
I know I want to get married. Or, at least, I used to think I knew this. Things have gotten more complicated since middle school.

9. I have studied, and taken a liking to, feminism.
You’re thinking: pulllleaase, how clichéd. So she read The Feminine Mystique and now she hates men. But, it’s not true.  I haven’t read that book.  I read The Whole Woman by Germaine Greer.

10. I now feel like a member of the very best kind of club: an exclusive club! (The feminist club.)
Like all good, exclusive clubs, there are rules about who can be a member and what members are allowed to do.

11. Having become one of the elect, an enlightened member of the faithful feminists, I can’t help but feel compelled to honor the club by making my life an example of female individuality.

12. I feel compelled to sacrifice my romantic life in order to honor early Church of Feminism doctrines.
(Come to think of it, the nunnery has never made more sense.  I wonder how Germaine Greer would feel, knowing that she was the impetus for women joining the convent.)

13. I want to be unconventional.
So as to avoid following conventions, or worse, appear to be an un-liberated woman, I would like to follow the non-conformist anti-marriage trend.

14. I’ve never related to Cinderella.
Cinderella’s glee at having a prince effortlessly slide a tiny glass slipper on her feet is all too un-relatable.  Don’t your feet sweat, Cinderella?

15. I am more like one of the ugly stepsisters.
I couldn’t wear those cute plastic heeled shoes they sell in packages for little girls.  I had wide, pudgy feet, a la Drissela.

16. I don’t believe in Prince Charming.
I had no early illusions about my prospects with Prince Charming.  If anything, I feared his impending ride into town to test his “if the shoe fits” hypothesis. I was all-too-keenly aware that no prince would have any luck sliding a glass slipper on my foot – unless, by “glass slippers,” Disney meant Birkenstocks.

17. I do believe in happily ever after.
That’s the problem. And to a greater or lesser extent, we all do. We all believe there is happiness in the after (marriage) life. Now, this is not to say that I am banking on daily pony rides into rainbow-land and evenings lit with fireworks.

But, then again, if that’s what marriage is about, consider me a convert.

1. I know, I know.  Strongman sweeps pseudo-feminist girl off her feet (after all, her protestations are only a mask for her own frustration at not having met Prince Charming) and they get married.  Keep reading, you know-it-all critic.

2. Castles not included.

3. The, possibly as in: “I saw him and I knew he was the one”.

Humor