The unwedding stories of a growing percentage of St. Louis couples mirror a national trend. When it comes to marriage, Millennials are saying, “I don’t” or “not yet” in far greater numbers than previous generations.
According to a survey conducted in 2014 by the Pew Research Center, the marriage rate is declining. Only 26 percent of the Millennial generation is married by age 32. By the same age, 36 percent of Generation X, 48 percent of Baby Boomers, and 65 percent of the members of the Silent Generation were married. Economic instability, personal preferences, distrust of institutions, and societal acceptance of alternative living arrangements have contributed to the decline in the marriage rate and the trend to marry later in life. Not even surprise pregnancies drive couples to the altar any longer.
The good news is that love survives, and unions thrive as Millennials redefine relationships, family, and commitment on their terms. Here’s how it all unfolded for three St. Louis couples.
Photograph by Kevin A. Roberts
James Meinert & Mary Densmore
Mary Densmore and James Meinert (above) met in Nicaragua in 2006, while serving as members of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. When it came time to leave, in 2008, they talked about their future together. “We both had a really good experience living in an intentional community of lay people that fostered justice and simplicity in our lives,” Meinert says. “We weren’t ready to give that up when we returned to the States.”
They learned a Spanish word that described the familial structure they often witnessed in Nicaragua: casarse, or to house together. “Marriage isn’t the norm in Nicaragua,” explains Meinert. “Most people are too poor to marry. It’s a social structure of privilege.”
“We decided not to marry in part because we didn’t want to trade on our privilege,” says Densmore. “We also didn’t want to exercise our right to marry until all people had the same rights. Now that LGBT people have the right to marry, we are talking again about what marriage means for us.”
They lived in separate intentional communities as they explored their options. By 2010, they discussed their commitments to each other with other couples they knew.
“We met with a couple who had been married for 40 years,” Meinert says. “Every year, they ask themselves, ‘Is this the right commitment for us at this time? What is it that binds us together?’ That’s powerful.”
The couple jointly proposed to each other after thoughtful discussions. They held a spiritual ceremony and celebrated their unmarried union with a potluck for friends and family.
“I think our commitment to each other is more intense because we don’t have that piece of paper,” Densmore says. “We foster closeness. We know where it gets hard and sticky with each other, and we don’t back away from that.”
Photograph by Kevin A. Roberts
Jonathan Jones & Anna Jean Sidel
Friends introduced Jonathan Jones and Anna Jean Sidel because the two shared a dream of opening a restaurant. Jones operated a cart that served Southwestern street tacos at Tower Grove Farmers’ Market. Sidel cooked crepes in a food truck. They soon became partners in life and business. The pair opened Southwest Diner in June 2012.
“We took all of the energy, time, and money that people sometimes put into planning a wedding into our business plan for Southwest Diner,” says Sidel, who declares she knew from an early age that she wouldn’t marry. “Marriage was never one of my goals… I want to be an example, as a heterosexual, that you don’t need marriage to be a partner or a mother.”
“Our union is between the two of us,” Jones adds, “the three of us, now that we have Esmée.” The birth of their daughter, Esmée Jean Theodora Jones, drove home some hard truths for her parents with regard to their decision to remain unmarried.
“When I was in the hospital to deliver her, I had to check the ‘single’ box many times,” Sidel says. “I’m not a single person. Jonathan was there with me every step of the way. There needs to be more boxes. If entities really want to know what’s going on with me, give me options.”
With no plans to marry, Sidel says, “I’d like to see a word for us. We’re in it for the long haul with each other. ‘Boyfriend’ is something I had in sixth grade. ‘Partner’ isn’t right, either. The person I love? We need words for what’s happening today in relationships that don’t include marriage.”
Photograph by Kevin A. Roberts
John Joern & Amanda Krebel
John Joern wasn’t expecting it when Amanda Krebel proposed to him. “We were at a karaoke bar, The One Nite Stand Dance Club on Gravois,” he says. “She walked over to me, got down on one knee, and proposed.”
Krebel always had been “a free spirit,” says Joern, who first noticed her while working at a music venue years ago. “She’d be the only one dancing, moving through a room of still statues,” he recalls. “Even being with a band and touring, I hadn’t met another person who did it like she does.”
Soon enough, wanderlust struck his then-girlfriend. “As the universe works, Amanda moved to Austin,” Joern says. But when a mutual friend died in a car crash, she returned for the funeral.
“And as things often go after funerals, I got pregnant,” Krebel says. “When our friend died and I got back together with John, I knew I’d found my home. I wanted a baby.” Joern also wanted a child.
“Marriage never crossed our minds,” Krebel says.
“Even after Amanda gave birth, we never thought about it,” Joern adds.
Eventually, though, their daughter, Lily-Mae, started asking questions. After Krebel’s impromptu proposal, they decided to hold a spiritual ceremony. Krebel found a 1930s-style wedding dress, Joern donned a tweed suit, and Lily-Mae clomped through the reception-like party in cowboy boots.
Afterward, though, Joern and Krebel never filed the paperwork. “Some people in our family think we’re married,” Joern says. “For us, it’s a ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of thing.”
The ceremony didn’t change the way the two conduct their daily lives, and they plan to remain unmarried. “We’ve always had a lot of fun together,” Krebel says. “He’s my best friend.”
“Our life together feels unperformed,” Joern says. “We’re not doing a song-and-dance. We do what feels right for us.”
