11 Women Explain Why They Would Never Want To Get Married
Many young girls imagine marrying their ideal mate in a magical wedding. In addition, women frequently receive a lot of messages from society telling them that living a single life isn’t meaningful or gratifying. Alternatively, consider these 11 incredibly happy ladies who have never married.
1. A 28-year-old Elisa has never been married.
Elisa admits that even though she came dangerously close to marriage, “the idea of being tied down” was a hard idea for her to embrace. “It seems incomprehensible to me to stay with one person forever, even in those circumstances.” She gave an explanation. “But for those who choose to honor it, I completely respect the idea of marriage; for me, it just seems like a title and joke.”
Elise also gives another explanation for her decision to lead this lifestyle. The price of a wedding, she says, “seems so frivolous.”
2. Beth Margaret, Who Was Also Single
As Beth puts it, “marriage is just a facade,” adding that there is no real substance to the union—it’s just about maintaining appearances. According to her, relationship expectations frequently convey the idea that “your romantic relationship is your most important one, and without it, you’re incomplete.”
3. A 59-year-old Kelly adores being on her own
“I’ve been traveling full-time for the past nine years. I take care of people’s pets while they are on vacation by housesitting (I even published a book on it!). I do this for free in someone else’s house. I’ve lived in residences in Kuala Lumpur, Hanoi, Osaka, Berlin, Amsterdam, London, Gibraltar, and all throughout Africa. She divulges. It’s a fantastic lifestyle, but it would be really challenging if I were married. I’ve never been married and I don’t intend to stop traveling the world alone right now.
4. Hazel Is Dedicated to Her Partner
“My girlfriend and I don’t want to be married, even if we can (finally!) get married. We both think that we don’t need a piece of paper to tell us that we’re devoted to one another. Hazel divulges. Furthermore, we would rather to use the money we would have spent on a celebration for anything else!
5. Christine Takes Her Money Into Account
“I would have to inherit my partner’s debt if we were to get married. Thank you not at all. We should keep our finances entirely apart, please.
6. Contentment Is a Delusion
“I find married individuals to be miserable, which is why I don’t want to be married. Though some are better at hiding it than others, practically every married couple I’ve ever met appears unhappy. As stated by mattcleary85.
7. No Agreements
“I don’t want to get married because in the most significant relationships in my life, there is never a need for a certification or contract to guarantee the continuation of the relationship, or to prove to the other person my feelings and my willingness to support them at all times—these are just understood.” Welsh_Milly shares.
8. It’s Still Possible to Feel Alone
A lot of people say they don’t feel comfortable expressing their wants, boundaries, or problems in their relationship. Many feel alone or unheard as a result. Consequently, it may be harder to deal with those emotions if you are depressed. “I’ve had anxiety and depression for a long time, and the last thing I want for myself is to be with someone, even if I don’t have strong feelings for them, simply to feel less alone or deserving. To feel less alone, I would prefer to be alone than to get married. Celeste Monet Dubois says.
9. Nina has never tied the knot
Nina describes herself as “Christian and of Nigerian descent,” two very patriarchal identities. She continued, “This is to the point of overshadowing whatever other amazing feats she may have achieved beforehand or even go on to do afterwards,” as a result of witnessing many of her female role models “forfeit their dreams” in addition to other freedoms.
Therefore, to paraphrase Jessica Knoll, the best-selling author of The Luckiest Girl Alive, “My fairy tale ending has always involved a pantsuit, not a wedding dress. I say this because I was a little girl.” To be successful means to perform well enough to gain freedom and, eventually, independence. She ends.
10. Angela Has Also Never Got Married
“I have no desire to get married. Since I was an only child growing up, I have never truly felt the need or want for a spouse. says Angela. “I’ve experienced tragedies that Adele could never sing about and relationships that rival your favorite romance book, but at the end of the day, I’m always happiest when I’m alone myself. Although I know many nomad couples, I am a digital nomad as well, and I genuinely believe that having a partner would just complicate things.
11. Steer clear of heartache
Heartbreak and disappointment result from the unfortunate fact that many marriages end in divorce. Evie explains why she doesn’t want to be married: “I don’t want to go through that or put anyone else through it. When I was a child, I saw marriages that I thought would last forever break and ruin.”
Joyfully Single
There are several typical reasons why women have never married, despite society’s constant messages that they should aim to be devoted and caring partners, have children, and be subservient, working extra hours to please those around them. The most popular ones are frivolous spending, savoring independence, and choosing nontraditional lifestyles like polyamory. On the other hand, Psychology Today points out that even though more individuals are opting out of marriage, they are not alone in their decision. Rather, “cohabitation has emerged as a popular substitute.” It follows that it is not surprising that 42% of American adults in 2017 acknowledged to not living with a partner or spouse, a 3% increase from 2007. This trend also appears to be continuing.
I Opened My Garage to a Homeless Woman—You Won’t Believe What I Found When I Walked In Unannounced
When a rich man, who feels emotionally distant, gives shelter to Lexi, a homeless woman, he becomes intrigued by her strength. Their unexpected friendship starts to grow—until one day he walks into his garage without knocking and finds something shocking. Who is Lexi really, and what is she hiding?
I had everything money could buy: a big house, fancy cars, and more wealth than I could ever use in a lifetime. Yet, inside, I felt an emptiness I couldn’t fill.
I had never had a family since women always seemed to want me only for the money I got from my parents. At sixty-one, I often wished I had made different choices.
I tapped the steering wheel absentmindedly, trying to shake off the familiar weight on my chest. That’s when I spotted a messy woman bent over a trash can.
I slowed the car, unsure why I even bothered. People like her were everywhere, right? But there was something about the way she moved, her thin arms digging through the garbage with a grim determination that tugged at something inside me.
She looked fragile but fierce, like she was holding on to life by sheer willpower.
Before I knew it, I had pulled over. The engine hummed as I rolled down the window, watching her from the safety of my car.
She looked up, startled. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she might run. But she didn’t. Instead, she straightened up, brushing her hands on her faded jeans.
“Do you need some help?” I asked, my voice sounding strange to me. I wasn’t the kind of person to talk to strangers or invite trouble into my life.
“You offering?” There was a sharpness in her voice, but also a tiredness, like she’d heard every empty promise before.
“I don’t know.” The words tumbled out before I could think. I stepped out of the car. “I just saw you there, and it didn’t seem right.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze fixed on mine. “What’s not right is life.” She let out a bitter laugh. “And cheating, no-good husbands in particular. But you don’t seem like someone who knows much about that.”
I winced, even though I knew she was right.
“Maybe not.” I paused, unsure how to continue. “Do you have a place to go tonight?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting away for a second before locking back onto mine. “No.”
The word hung in the air between us. That was all I needed to hear.
“Look, I have a garage. It’s more like a guest house. You could stay there until you get back on your feet.”
I expected her to laugh in my face, to tell me to go away. But instead, she blinked at me, the edges of her tough exterior starting to crack.
“I don’t take charity,” she said, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable.
“It’s not charity,” I replied, though I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. “It’s just a place to stay. No strings attached.”
“Okay. Just for a night,” she replied. “I’m Lexi, by the way.”
The drive back to my house was quiet. She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her arms wrapped around herself like a shield.
When we arrived, I led her to the garage-turned-guest-house. It wasn’t fancy, but it was enough for someone to live in.
“You can stay here,” I said, pointing to the small space. “There’s food in the fridge, too.”
“Thanks,” she muttered.
Over the next few days, Lexi stayed in the garage, but we saw each other for meals. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about her pulled at me.
Maybe it was how she kept going despite everything life threw at her, or perhaps the loneliness in her eyes, which mirrored my own. Maybe it was just the simple fact that I didn’t feel so alone anymore.
One night, as we sat across from each other at dinner, she began to open up.
“I used to be an artist,” she said softly. “Well, I tried to be. I had a small gallery, a few shows… but it all fell apart.”
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Life happened. My husband left me for a younger woman he got pregnant and kicked me out. My whole life unraveled after that.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
She shrugged. “It’s in the past.”
But I could tell it wasn’t, not really. The pain was still there, just below the surface. I knew that feeling all too well.
As the days passed, I found myself looking forward to our conversations.
Lexi had a sharp wit and a biting sense of humor that cut through the gloom of my empty house. Slowly, the hollow space inside me seemed to shrink.
It all changed one afternoon. I had been rushing around, trying to find the air pump for one of my cars. I barged into the garage without knocking, expecting to grab it quickly and leave. But what I saw stopped me cold.
There, spread across the floor, were dozens of paintings. Of me.
Or rather, grotesque versions of me. One painting showed me with chains around my neck, another with blood pouring from my eyes. In the corner, there was one of me lying in a casket.
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. This was how she saw me? After everything I’d done for her?
I backed out of the room before she noticed me, my heart pounding.
That night, as we sat down for dinner, I couldn’t shake the images from my mind. Whenever I looked at Lexi, all I could see were those horrific portraits.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Lexi,” I said, my voice tight. “What are those paintings?”
Her fork clattered to the plate. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw them,” I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm. “The paintings of me. The chains, the blood, the coffin. What the hell is that?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see those,” she stammered.
“Well, I did,” I said coldly. “Is that how you see me? As some monster?”
“No, it’s not that.” She wiped her eyes, her voice shaky. “I was just… angry. I’ve lost everything, and you have so much. It wasn’t fair, and I couldn’t help it. I needed to let it out.”
“So you painted me like a villain?” I asked sharply.
She nodded, shame etched on her face. “I’m sorry.”
I sat back, letting the silence stretch between us. I wanted to forgive her. I wanted to understand. But I couldn’t.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” I said flatly.
Lexi’s eyes widened. “Wait, please—”
“No,” I interrupted. “It’s over. You need to leave.”
The next morning, I helped her pack her things and drove her to a nearby shelter. She didn’t say much, and neither did I. Before she stepped out of the car, I handed her a few hundred dollars.
She hesitated but then took the money with trembling hands.
Weeks passed, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of loss. Not just because of the disturbing paintings, but because of what we had before. There had been warmth and connection — something I hadn’t felt in years.
Then, one day, a package arrived at my door. Inside was a painting, but this one was different. It wasn’t grotesque or twisted. It was a serene portrait of me, captured with a peace I hadn’t known I possessed.
Tucked inside the package was a note with Lexi’s name and phone number scrawled at the bottom.
My finger hovered over the call button, my heart beating faster than it had in years. Getting worked up over a phone call felt silly, but there was so much more riding on it than I wanted to admit.
I swallowed hard and hit “Call” before I could second-guess myself. It rang twice before she picked up.
“Hello?” Her voice was hesitant, like she sensed it could only be me.
I cleared my throat. “Lexi. It’s me. I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure if you’d like it. I figured I owed you something better than… those other paintings.”
“You didn’t owe me anything, Lexi. I wasn’t exactly fair to you, either.”
“You had every right to be upset.” Her voice was steadier now. “What I painted — those were things I needed to get out of me, but they weren’t really about you. You were just… there. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Lexi. I forgave you the moment I saw that painting.”
Her breath hitched. “You did?”
“I did,” I said, and I meant it. It wasn’t just the painting that had changed my mind; it was the feeling that I had let something meaningful slip away because I was too scared to face my pain. “And… well, I’ve been thinking… maybe we could start over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe we could talk. Maybe over dinner? If you’d like.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “I’d really like that.”
We made plans to meet in a few days. Lexi told me she used the money I gave her to buy new clothes and get a job. She was planning to move into an apartment when she got her first paycheck.
I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having dinner with Lexi again.
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