As I near my 30th birthday, I'm noticing an outbreak of desperation among many of my girlfriends. I call it must-get-married-itis. This syndrome has attacked the sensibilities of even my most level-headed friends. No one seems exempt except me -- and, perhaps, the long-unwed Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell.

Those women deep in the throes of planning long-term legal commitment spend hours discussing the four C's (cut, color, clarity, and carat weight); the pros and cons of Vera Wang; and what flatware pattern to register for. The remainder of my gal pals -- those unattached yet actively on the prowl -- participate in these discussions with much fervor. They speak so optimistically and in such certain tones that, if you didn't know better, you'd believe that they were an aisle's length away from wedded bliss. Short of slapping these wanna-bes upside their carefully-coifed heads, there seems to be no cure for this widely spreading contagion. Women who were vehemently independent in their 20s are fast-selecting partners and hightailing it to the altar once they turn three-zero.

Believe me, I, too, fancy the idea of a one-day, all-about-me event. But I'm just not a white-dress-wearing, walk-down-the-aisle kind of woman. I'm not even entirely convinced that the institution of marriage is valid, though I'm slowly warming to some nontraditional variations. It's not that I'm down on love. It's just that it seems unnatural to declare your intentions in front of a third party, all so your love can gain legal recognition. Love should be a spiritual bond between two people -- and even if I believed in God, I wouldn't want a threesome with the Guy for all eternity. Of course, there's always the local justice of the peace, but that seems so cookie-cutter generic and impersonal. It may sound snobbish, but I'd like to consider my romantic relationship so completely unique that jumping through the usual matrimonial hoops simply won't do.

Then there's the whole wedding ordeal: coordinating guest lists, seating arrangements, and menu items, not to mention sitting through countless staged photo sessions -- it makes my stomach churn. The ceremony and reception seem like a string of events orchestrated merely to placate the parents and relatives of the to-be-wed. Think about it. The bride and groom must exhibit exemplary behavior from beginning to end. Excessive alcohol consumption is not an option -- though it's one that many of us normally rely on to deal with large doses of family. And there's no slipping off to the coatroom for a quick spit-swapping session. The bride and groom are on call and in the spotlight for the duration. There is no time out. The bride can hardly even go to the bathroom without the assistance of at least one bridesmaid.

During what is supposed to be a couple's most special day, they are forced to chitchat with people (many of them strangers) in short bursts of frantic sociability. You tell me: Is it possible to have a meaningful exchange when you must evacuate the country club at 10 p.m. sharp, and you have 150 other people to acknowledge? Sure, gathering all those nearest and dearest to your heart in one space is a nice idea, but do the bride and groom really get to enjoy those people's company? Is there ever a moment when they get to relax and take pleasure in the results of tedious planning that cost thousands of dollars?

A recent wedding I attended only strengthened my conviction. A good friend of my boyfriend's got hitched, and we made the cross-country trek to be there. The groom-to-be was the product of two freewheeling hippie parents, so we had every reason to expect a unique wedding. Instead, we walked into a two-hour hard-core Catholic ceremony, followed by a never-ending reception. Don't get me wrong. I know people find meaning in religion, but please: intimidation doesn't seem like the best way to attract the faithful. And though I searched high and low, there were no personal touches. From the overused Louis Armstrong to the mediocre dinner, I was sorely disappointed. The couple followed the typical-wedding template to a tee, complete with amateurish, prom-like DJ.

I realize there's more to the "special day" than details, but couples get wrapped up in such details for months. And then that's all they can see. Some say they did it for their parents, but that rationale just doesn't cut it for me anymore. When the parents are the ones getting married, I'll be more sympathetic. But if ever there's a time to be selfish, it's your wedding. If I'm going to put on high heels, plunk down big bucks, and participate in what is supposed to be a moving event, I want to walk away feeling moved. In the end, though I realize that this moment may be the pinnacle of many people's lives, it's just not for me. I don't believe that a wedding, or even marriage itself, should be a life goal.

I pretend to be amused by my friends' wedding banter, but in truth I'm disappointed. Whatever happened to finding true love -- unforced? Soon after the aforementioned all-too-conventional wedding, I told my man that the most important day in my life was the day I knew I loved him. I don't need a robed official, a fancy cake, or registry gifts to know my feelings are real. I don't need a ring to symbolize my commitment to our relationship. I wholeheartedly believe in it. If it works for Goldie and Kurt, it may just work for me.

Charyn Pfeuffer can be reached at cpfeuffer@yahoo.com.

Issue Date: October 19 - 25, 2001