Marriage is such an archaic concept. A wedding ceremony is closer to signing-over ownership than a declaration of love, with spouses being no more than chattel draped in overpriced finery. Like a game show where you “bank” on your assumed best prize (in this case the best you can attain with your ever-deteriorating face and body) marriage is essentially locking-in a deal with a life-long companion, debt holder, and breeder.

In times of yore, marriage was the only way to fuck without being ostracised by your family, clan or tribe. Religion was basically law and god-fearing nitwits abided by contracts penned by Medieval muppets. In the present day, with lots of agnostic atheists about, it’s odd that so many still blindly recite contractual trash and parrot religious garbage (in a “House Of God” I might add) knowing full-well it has no meaning in modern society. Vows vary but generally they go something like this: “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death us do part.”

“For better or for worse” sounds to me like you’re signing-up for the latter, a warning of sorts. These vows are not just about dealing with ageing, mild illness, and money problems, it includes miscarriages, abortions, unwanted children, chronic and terminally ill children, the death of your kids, life-changing accidents, domestic abuse and arguing over wallpaper patterns. Nobody knows a truly happy married couple and yet everybody rushes to get their very own wedding booked, so they can create a few sprogs, put on weight, buy a house, get old and shrivel-up and die like everyone else on the bloody planet.

Every time I hear someone speak about getting married, I’m reminded of the nonsensical line from that shite Beyonce song (which plays in every dreary wedding party these days); “If you liked it you shoulda put a ring on it”. “Liked it” I assume, means the pussy you’re getting, so why stick a ring on her finger if you’re already bashing? Oh yes, because you’re in essence purchasing that woman as your life-long sex partner. My oh my, what a feminist icon Knowles, sorry Knowles-Carter is. Play “Single Ladies” back-to-back with “Bills, Bills, Bills” and you can prop-up sexism with Jay’s double-barrelled Bey.

Remember that this is a contract that binds you to a random person for life, or at least it’s supposed to, but marriage is essentially null-and-void alongside flippant divorces. Grounds for divorce include “Unreasonable Behaviour” which sounds like a catch-all term to me. Couples filing for divorce say shite like their marriage has “broken down” or they’ve “grown apart as partners” which sounds a lot like insouciance (as well as failing to take into account their progeny’s feelings) and it negates the effing vows they themselves signed-up for! What happened to “for better, for worse” you daft, backtracking dicks?

And what about all the other inane shit? We have the bride pointlessly wearing white when most people have already consummated – some even procreated – prior to their wedding. The groom on the other hand, wears a dark-coloured suit which avoids signifying their virginity, which along with his bride’s surname change, shows the sexist nature of the ceremony. A lad in a suit not-too-dissimilar to funeral attire and a lass in a life-size bog-roll cover then get hitched but only after her dad hands her over like some kind of incest pimp. Everyone then proceeds to chuck rice in the air because rice, as you well know, soaks up water from water-damaged tech and probably also tears off contractual obligations.

In a wannabe equal society, I cannot believe that we still have hoards of women exclaiming “this is my day!”. A working or middle-class girl with a misplaced yearning to be a princess blows her parents savings on an ostentatious dress that will be wrapped in plastic and shoved in the back of a closet never to be worn again. And after an epic argument, infidelity, or worse from her prince, she begins to rue her perfect marriage, and this preserved dress then transforms into an object of reminiscence and regret. A couple of grand well spent.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a same-sex couple, whether you walk down the isle or jump the broom, marriage is antiquated protocol that you should avoid. If you love someone, if you truly believe that’s your soulmate, is getting dolled-up and fannying around in a church gonna boost your relationship? And hey, if all you’re in it for is a tax break or a better pension, you’re a pair of passionless dickheads. You wouldn’t know the meaning of “love” even if you Sharpie-d the word on a strap-on and got pegged by it.

So face it: a wedding is an anachronistic and purposeless event, a pact for mindless wankers yearning to be like their friends and family knowing full-well that it’ll all end in misery… like their friends and family. Apart from the free food and trying to get off with a bridesmaid, it’s a wasted day if you’re a “friend” of the “happy” couple. And I have to mention how strange it is if you’re family. All the cringeworthy music and dad-dancing in the world can’t distract you from the weirdness you’re taking part in. Forget all that frivolity and libation, if you’re a sibling the thought may pop into your mind: “that’s the bloke who’s gonna fuck my sister raw tonight”. And I assume parents too are proudly thinking to themselves: “that’s my boy, getting his nut” or “that’s my baby girl, getting her hymen torn”. My, what a tender and completely non-sordid moment to involve every-fucking-body you know and are related to.

Bored Of The Rings.

This is an unpublished article from 2018.