Polly Vernon has her say
OF ALL THE PSEUDO -feminist statements open to a 21st-century lady, the one where we’re allowed to propose to male suitors on 29 February in a leap year is probably the least empowering of all. Partly because one day every four years doesn’t sound like a solid commitment to equality to me. Partly because the idea of proposals at all – the ritual, the wonder, the knee, the glee – is silly, when you think about it. Mostly because I do not understand getting married. I just don’t. The expense, the admin, the having contentious aspects of your family in the same place at the same time, the standing up in front of people and declaring you’ll never sleep with anyone else… Why would you do that, when you could kick on with shiz on a one-day-at-a-time basis: no flounce, no ladies’ favours, no mention of death parting you?
This should explain why Love Is Blind, the Netflix dating show on which couples get engaged without even seeing each other, having courted through a dividing wall on interlinking isolation pods, is blowing my mind. Not because it takes some valid issues like – is contemporary dating culture too looks-fixated?; what happens when a woman of colour unknowingly begins her first biracial relationship?; at what point should you tell a partner that you’ve been involved with both men and women in the past/is it OK if they freak after you do? – and somehow turns them into deliciously vapid viewing, but because it fetishises marriage. Oh, marriage is the only game here! Not like, or love, or respect, or caring, or even base sexual attraction (which, I’d argue, has more integrity than the legal wranglings of a marriage certificate). Nope. Just marriage. ‘I think I’m close to finding my wifey!’ squeals contestant X, on completing his fourth day of significant chats with contestant Y. ‘I can’t believe you’re my future husband!’ says contestant Y, on accepting his proposal, sight unseen. It’s enough to make your average Love Islander’s quest for ‘connection’ sound like a progressive, bohemian attempt to reconfigure romance for the modern age.
Then again: the modern age is very hung up on old-fashioned marriage, have you noticed? Jane Austen-grade fixated. Debutante ball attendee beady. Convoluted proposal sequences routinely go viral on Instagram. Flashy foreign hen and stag dos now account for so many international flights, environmental groups last week begged for mercy. Weddings are three-day events incorporating hashtags, flash mob dance sequences, multiple outfit changes… Why: it’d be enough to make a girl question her ongoing commitment to configuring her domestic arrangements according to what suits her and her bloke, with little regard for what society wants her to do/what gives good content on the socials… If that girl weren’t me.
Happily, she is.