Millennials thought they were reinventing weddings, but instead, they ended up killing them
The sun is shining, and the overpriced bouquets are blooming – yep, it’s wedding season. But lurking on the horizon is a growing cloud of pre-marital discontent. In The Atlantic this month, one bold voice dared to challenge wedding traditions, calling for the end of plus-ones due to their sky-high costs. “Miserly nonsense!” one reader protested.
Apologies to all the happily married folks out there, but I’m on the side of the wedding skeptics. I’ve been to my fair share of weddings – from sunny Tuscan getaways to gritty east London warehouses, charming countryside events to church ceremonies full of earnest promises. But watching close friends navigate their first wedding experience is enough to make anyone reconsider saying “I do.” (I say “first” because I haven’t yet entered phase two of wedding season: the “divorced but open to a second shot” stage, which I’m told kicks in during your forties.)
We Millennials thought we were changing the game – food trucks, hay bales in fields, dogs carrying the rings. But in reality, we’ve only trapped ourselves in a whole new nightmare of sky-high expenses.
The financial burden begins long before the vows are even exchanged. According to a 2023 Aviva survey, the average stag or hen party will set you back £779 in the UK, or a shocking £1,208 if you decide to head to sunnier destinations. A staggering 79% of those who declined the invite said it was due to cost, with many also admitting to lying about their reasons for opting out.
There’s no reason why a stag or hen party needs to take place in places like New Orleans, Sardinia, or Budapest. The two things that always seem to happen are getting drunk enough to forget most of the trip and partaking in activities that would never cross your mind on a regular day.
These activities include, but aren’t limited to: ceramic penis crafting, private Beyoncé dance lessons, clay pigeon shooting, and ziplining through forests with names you’ll forget within a year. If you’d prefer to spend your vacation doing something you actually enjoy, tough luck – Gareth from sixth form has decided you’re dressing up as a lobster and going 4×4 off-roading in Dubai. This isn’t a holiday; it’s an adult summer camp with a thousand-pound price tag.
And don’t even think about questioning the cost of these “fun” extras. You’ll be booed out of the group chat by people you’ve never met, all of whom think that watching your friend get wasted on pilsner while dressed in a dirndl in some backstreet in Munich will provide him with life-changing memories.
It might be fun if these events happened, say, once every two years. I enjoy a good dune buggy ride as much as the next person. Unfortunately, once one couple ties the knot, it seems like everyone else catches wedding fever. You wait your whole life for a white wedding, and then suddenly, three or four come at once. I know someone who attended six weddings in a single year. There’s only so many canapés you can eat before the puff pastry starts tasting like a deflating tire.
Our generation was supposed to break the mold. Post-2008 financial crash, who could afford all the usual trappings of adulthood, let alone a “just married” Volkswagen Beetle? Yet, we’ve stumbled into a cost-of-living crisis, where everyone agrees that £4 for a coffee is robbery, but we’re still expected to ignore our doubts when it comes to attending a friend’s wedding in Canberra.
I also don’t think the financial strain is limited to the guests. Can your mom invite all her bridge club friends if she agrees to foot the bill for the edible arrangements? How much can you reasonably ask your friends to pay for a hotel room in the middle of nowhere, just because it’s the only venue that’ll accommodate your plus-one?
Show me someone who says, “Planning this wedding was the best thing that happened to our relationship,” and I’ll show you someone with an unhealthy obsession with their spreadsheet app.
Some of the most memorable weddings I’ve seen happened far from the pressures of parents, guest lists, and guilt over not inviting your childhood best friend. Small, intimate affairs with just 10 people or fewer, usually in places where you can get a cheap pint and a delicious meal without anyone needing to max out their credit cards. Of course, being a wedding cynic, I wasn’t invited.
