Caroline Tiger

Philadelphia magazine, January 2003

More and more couples are deciding not to tie the knot. Everyone else better get used to it

Michelle was relieved. She had just found out that she could get health-care coverage through her boyfriend Ted’s job. Ted, an assistant biology professor at Bryn Mawr, works for one of 60 employers in Pennsylvania who offer domestic-partner benefits to opposite-sex partners, Michelle explained to a friend. But the friend was confused. “You have to do more than just live together, right?”

Not really. Michelle and Ted did have to sign the college’s Statement of Domestic Partnership Form and send three documents to prove their financial interdependence to Blue Cross. But they didn’t need a marriage certificate. And they didn’t want one. Michelle and Ted are among more than 35,000 Philadelphia couples who are choosing, for the moment at least, not to take vows. But Michelle constantly finds herself defending her choice to friends and family who continue to treat their relationship as less than credible, because they’re not married. Both 33, the two have been a couple for nearly four years, and have moved together twice—once, cross-country. They say they are committed for the long term.

So do Lauren and her boyfriend Tim, both 27. And they only think about marriage when other people bring it up—which is happening more and more often now that they’ve reached their late 20s. Lauren gets it from her family—“My mother takes it personally,” she says—and Tim from his colleagues at Jefferson Hospital, where he’s doing his residency. The two started dating as undergrads at Brown eight years ago. They have a joint checking account and plan to share a mortgage, but agree that walking down the aisle would feel more like walking the plank. “Every minute we spend at a wedding is another minute we know it’s not for us,” says Lauren.

Everyone has different reasons for not taking vows. Ted thinks that what he has with Michelle is too unique to pigeonhole into such a generic category as “marriage.” To Michelle, it seems hypocritical to celebrate one kind of family when there are so many other kinds out there, including gay couples who aren’t allowed to marry. Among other things, Lauren resents the fact that everyone expects her to get married—so she refuses to give in.

Some couples aren’t ready to tie the knot; others just see no good reason to get married, says Dorian Solot, co-founder of the Alternatives To Marriage Project, a national nonprofit organization that’s based in Boston. Solot and her partner, Marshall Miller, formed ATMP in 1998 when they realized how little support was out there for unmarrieds—especially when juxtaposed with the deluge of wedding magazines, books on making your marriage work, and pro-marriage groups. Their website, www.unmarried.org, has an active listserv and dozens of posts from 5,000 members venting about pressure from family and friends. The site creates a community for these like-minded souls, and also provides legal and financial advice for a group that lacks a social blueprint.

In Pennsylvania, one of 12 states where couples can still become common-law spouses, procuring “married” benefits can be as easy as walking into an auto-tag joint, filling out a one-page form, and laying down a few dollars. (It’s a myth that you have to live together for seven years; the only requirement by law is uttering a present-tense intention of marriage such as, “Now we are married.”). Once wed in the eyes of the state, you’re wed in the eyes of health-insurance companies, too. The only catch is that if you choose to part ways, a court must grant you a real divorce—a proceeding that can be as costly, time-consuming and public as a wedding.

Divorce is one of the reasons why Priscilla, a 55-year-old executive recruiter from Wynnewood, and her boyfriend of 10 years, Murray, aren’t getting married. Survivors of divorce, they have no desire to repeat that. Both have kids from previous marriages and established careers with benefits, so they don’t need to lean on each other financially. “And there’s something fun about being untraditional,” adds Priscilla. Their biggest problems are how to introduce each other—Priscilla likes “partner”; Murray prefers “girlfriend”—and the constant pressure from married friends who want them to join the club. When are you getting married? Why aren’t you? C’mon, when?

ATMP suggests this response: “Shit…I forgot.”