The Accidental Trad Wife

I love, love

I love, love. And I love weddings. Today we went to a wedding of one of my husband’s colleagues. I felt that the day was exactly what they wanted, it was intimate, heartfelt and real.

It was a church wedding. It’s been years since I’ve been to one, I’m not religious. Although the words are different and religion is present, the overarching meaning is the same: love.

The reception had everything a wedding should: food, drink and music. My husband hates dancing, I love dancing. But at the end of the new couple’s first dance, we took to the floor. With a piece of pizza in my mouth we danced to the Jackson Five. I loved it.

I knew I wouldn’t have time to fully write up the day for this blog, so instead I’ll share my views on marriage, feminism and tradition. This means I got to write the majority of this on Friday evening, rather than many glasses of wine deep tonight. And many glasses of wine deep, I am,

Let me tell you about my wedding. 

Down the aisle 

My dad walked me down the aisle. He was wearing a ridiculous Liquorice Allsorts tie and I was wearing a beautiful boho wedding dress. An orchestral version of a song from the Studio Ghibli movie Ponyo was playing. It’s my go-to feel good film. 

My husband had tears in his eyes when he saw me. I’m sure it was love and not regret. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. 

After the registrar went through the first section of the ceremony, my dad gave my husband a big hug before sitting down. My dad gives great hugs. 

This wasn’t ownership of me going from one man to another. This was two men I care deeply about, and who care deeply about me, connecting in a meaningful way. 

My dad would’ve been happy whatever his role was in our wedding. He’s always said that my happiness is the most important thing to him. This wasn’t an anti feminist choice, it was just a choice. 

Taking his name 

I was never going to take my husband’s surname. We briefly considered double-barrelling, but we didn’t like how it sounded. 

One morning I woke up and had a change of heart. I called my husband and told him I was going to take his name, it seemed like a big thing for me, he didn’t see it that way. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, he was just only thinking about us being together for the rest of our lives, what my name was had no significance to him.

This was not an anti feminist choice. We’re a unit. And for me, our joint name signifies that. By taking his name I’m not saying he owns me, and he certainly doesn’t see it that way, we just love each other. My signature and what I write down on forms is just a choice I made. 

The reception

It was perfect. No speeches, no first dance, no cutting the cake. Just a great party in a dive bar with everyone we love. We had too much food, too much drink and terrible music that kept the mums and aunties dancing. 

Not having traditional elements was not a feminist choice, it was just our choice. 

On love

Weddings are deeply personal to the couple. Other people’s opinions on what it may mean don’t matter. People who love each other can chose to express it in whatever way they choose, and I love that, and I love, love. 

The Trad Wife round up:

Hymns sung: 3
Songs danced to: 8
Glasses of prosecco: unsure, easily 8 though
Feeling: happy and in love