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.
My 16-Year-Old Son Went to Stay with His Grandmother for the Summer – One Day, I Got a Call from Her
When my 16-year-old son offered to spend the summer taking care of his disabled grandmother, I thought he’d finally turned a corner. But one night, a terrifying call from my mother shattered that hope.
“Please, come save me from him!” my mother’s voice whispered through the phone, barely a breath.
A scared elderly woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
Her words were sharp with fear, a tone I’d never heard from her. My stomach knotted. Before I could respond, the line went dead.
I stared at my phone, disbelief mixing with shock. My strong, fiercely independent mother was scared. And I knew exactly who “him” was.
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
My son had always been a handful, but lately, he’d crossed new lines. At sixteen, he was testing every boundary he could find. Rebellious, headstrong, a walking storm of attitude and defiance.
I remembered him coming home from school, slinging his backpack down with a certain grin that I didn’t recognize. “I was thinking about going to Grandma’s this summer,” he’d said. “I mean, you’re always saying she could use more company. I could keep an eye on her.”
A smiling teenager | Source: Pexels
My first reaction was surprise and a little pride. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf, becoming responsible. But looking back now, as I sped down the darkening highway, his words nagged at me in a way they hadn’t before.
I’d blinked, surprised. “You… want to go stay with Grandma? You usually can’t wait to get out of there.”
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
“I’ll help take care of her,” he’d said. “You could even let the caregiver go, Mom. Save some money, you know?”
The more I drove, the more pieces of our recent conversations slipped into place in my mind, forming a picture I didn’t like.
“People change,” he’d shrugged with a strange smile. Then he looked up at me with a half-smile. “I mean, I’m almost a man now, right?”
A smiling teenage boy with a phone | Source: Pexels
I’d brushed it off then, thinking maybe he was finally growing up. But now, that smile felt… off. Not warm or genuine, but like he was playing a part.
As I drove, I remembered other details, things I’d dismissed at the time. A week into his stay, I’d called, wanting to check on my mother directly. He’d answered, cheerful but too fast, like he was steering the call. “Hey, Mom! Grandma’s asleep. She said she’s too tired to talk tonight, but I’ll tell her you called.”
A concerned woman on her phone | Source: Freepik
Why didn’t I push harder?
My mind raced back to how it all began. It had been just the two of us since his father left when he was two. I’d tried to give him what he needed to stay grounded. But since he hit his teenage years, the small cracks had started widening.
An angry teenage boy | Source: Freepik
The only person who seemed to get through to him now and then was my mother. She had a way of disarming him, though even she admitted he was “testing her patience.”
I dialed my mother’s number again, willing her to pick up. My thumb tapped the screen anxiously, but still, nothing.
The sky darkened as the houses became sparse, her rural neighborhood just up ahead. With every mile, my mind replayed his too-smooth excuses, his charming act.
A woman on her phone in her car | Source: Freepik
As I pulled up to my mother’s house, a chill ran through me. Her lawn, once so tidy, was now overgrown, weeds tangling around the porch steps. The shutters had peeling paint, and the lights were off, as though no one had been home in weeks.
I stepped out of the car, feeling disbelief twisting into a sick anger. Beer bottles and crushed soda cans littered the porch. I could even smell cigarette smoke drifting out through the open window.
A littered porch | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I reached for the door, pushing it open.
And there, right in front of me, was chaos.
Strangers filled the living room laughing, drinking, shouting over the music. Half of them looked old enough to be college kids, others barely looked out of high school. My heart twisted, a mixture of fury and heartache flooding through me.
A furious woman | Source: Pexels
“Where is he?” I whispered, scanning the crowd, disbelief giving way to a focused rage. I shouldered through people, calling his name. “Excuse me! Move!”
A girl sprawled on the couch glanced up at me, blinking lazily. “Hey, lady, chill out. We’re just having fun,” she slurred, waving a bottle in my direction.
“Where’s my mother?” I snapped, barely able to hold back the edge in my voice.
A shouting woman | Source: Pexels
The girl just shrugged, unconcerned. “Dunno. Haven’t seen any old lady here.”
Ignoring her, I continued through the packed room, shouting my son’s name over the blaring music. I looked from face to face, my heart pounding faster with every step. Every second that passed made the house feel more like a stranger’s, more like a place my mother would never allow, let alone live in.
Teenagers partying | Source: Pexels
“Mom!” I called, my voice desperate as I reached the end of the hall, near her bedroom door. It was closed, the handle faintly scratched, as though it’d been opened and closed a hundred times in the last hour alone.
I knocked hard, heart racing. “Mom? Are you in there? It’s me!”
A weak, trembling voice replied, barely audible over the noise. “I’m here. Please—just get me out.”
A woman knocking frantically into the closed door | Source: Midjourney
I felt a wave of relief and horror as I fumbled with the handle and threw the door open. There she was, sitting on the bed, her face pale and drawn, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. Her hair was mussed, and I could see dark circles under her eyes.
“Oh, Mom…” I crossed the room in a heartbeat, falling to my knees beside her and wrapping my arms around her.
An elderly woman covering her ears | Source: Freepik
Her hand, frail but steady, clutched mine. “He started with just a few friends,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “But when I told him to stop, he got angry. He… he said I was just getting in the way.” Her voice wavered. “He started locking me in here. Said I was… ruining his fun.”
A sickening wave of anger surged through me. I’d been blind, foolish enough to believe my son’s promise to “help out.” I took a shaky breath, stroking her hand. “I’m going to fix this, Mom. I swear.”
An elderly woman in her bedroom | Source: Freepik
She nodded, gripping my hand, her own fingers cold and trembling. “You have to.”
I walked back to the living room, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. And there was my son, leaning against the wall, laughing with a group of older kids.
When he looked up and saw me, his face went pale.
“Mom? What… what are you doing here?”
A shocked teenage boy | Source: Freepik
“What am I doing here?” I echoed, my voice steady with a calm I didn’t feel. “What are you doing here? Look around! Look at what you’ve done to your grandmother’s home!”
He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but I saw his mask slipping. “It’s just a party. You don’t have to freak out.”
“Get everyone out of here. Now.” My voice was steel, and this time, it cut through the noise. The whole room seemed to freeze. “I’m calling the police if this house isn’t empty in the next two minutes.”
A furious woman | Source: Freepik
One by one, the partiers shuffled out, murmuring and stumbling toward the door. The house cleared out, leaving only broken furniture, empty bottles, and my son, who now stood alone in the wreckage he’d made.
When the last guest was gone, I turned to him. “I trusted you. Your grandmother trusted you. And this is how you repay her? This is what you thought ‘helping’ looked like?”
A woman confronting her son | Source: Midjourney
He shrugged, a defensive sneer twisting his face. “She didn’t need the space. You’re always on my case, Mom. I just wanted some freedom!”
“Freedom?” My voice shook with disbelief. “You’re going to learn what responsibility is.” I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of each word. “You’re going to a summer camp with strict rules, and I’m selling your electronics, everything valuable, to pay for the damage. You don’t get a single ‘freedom’ until you earn it.”
An angry woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney
“What?” His bravado faltered, fear flickering in his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am,” I said, voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “And if you don’t change, you’re out of the house when you turn eighteen. I’m done with excuses.”
The next day, I sent him off to camp. His protests, his anger all faded as the summer passed, and for the first time, he was forced to face the consequences.
A teenage boy in a camp | Source: Pexels
As I repaired my mother’s house that summer, I felt the pieces of our family begin to mend. Bit by bit, room by room, I cleared the broken glass, patched up the walls, and held on to hope that my son would come home a different person.
After that summer, I saw my son start to change. He grew quieter, steadier, spending evenings studying instead of disappearing with friends.
A boy doing his homework | Source: Pexels
Small acts like helping around the house, apologizing without being prompted became routine. Each day, he seemed more aware, more respectful, like he was finally becoming the man I’d hoped for.
Two years later, I watched him walk up my mother’s steps again, head bowed. He was a successful gentleman now, about to graduate school with honors and enroll in a nice college. In his hand was a bouquet, his gaze sincere and soft in a way I’d never seen.
A young man with flowers | Source: Freepik
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” he said, his voice thick with regret. I held my breath, watching as the boy I’d fought to raise offered her a piece of his heart.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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