Family Weddings and My Own Ideal

by Li Sian Goh

When my parents got married in the 1970s, they had what my mother grudgingly conceded, decades later, was a “big wedding.” At the wedding dinner, there were 100 tables for a thousand guests in all — 500 on my mum’s side, and 500 on my dad’s.

My mother explained that they had to invite that many people because her father wanted to invite his business associates, which makes him sound like a businessperson out of a Monopoly game. He was not (I say defensively). My mum’s dad owned a small watch shop on the bottom floor of a shophouse in downtown Singapore, and his family, including my mother until she got married, lived on the top floor. (That shophouse, and others along the same street, was acquired by the government sometime in the 1980s, and is now part of a shopping mall.) Anyway, he was a popular guy.

When my sister got married early last year, they had what my mother considered “not a big wedding.” But I still thought it was pretty extravagant. Not only did they have the big traditional Chinese wedding dinner for 600 of the bride’s and groom’s closest friends and relatives, they also held a smaller wedding dinner for less than a hundred guests; younger contemporaries of my sister and brother-in-law who would presumably enjoy that a little more.

This second dinner was held in a restaurant that served European food. It was lighter on the traditional, lung-busting Chinese wedding toasts (“Yam seng!” where you hold and hold the “yam” until you can’t breathe any more), and heavier on the subtle floral arrangements and expensive silver cutlery.

I would much rather do something else with my money than spend it on a huge party, such as a down payment on a small flat. At this stage in my life, down payments and weddings have an either-or relation, and each on its own a far-off, wistful goal. Alarmed by how stressful and expensive my sister’s wedding preparations had seemed to be for all concerned, I told my mum somewhat nervously, “When I get married, I’m not going to have a wedding dinner, if that’s OK? Just the tea ceremony — I think that would be fine. Maybe dinner in a restaurant, but no one beyond first cousins. Or maybe we’ll elope. We’ll come home for the tea ceremony though.”

Side note: I have always found Chinese tea ceremonies, where the new bride and groom serve their parents and new in-laws tea, rather sweet (except for the part where the wedding gifts to the new couple are handed over during said ceremony, which feels bougie and embarrassing).

She smiled resignedly. “Of course — it’ll be your wedding.”

Recently I asked my partner to describe his ideal wedding. “Two people,” he said without any hesitation whatsoever. “Three if we count the legal functionary. But maybe they can be on Skype. Parents get photos (if they’re lucky). In the photos there’s nothing indicating there’s a wedding. We’re wearing normal clothes. No rings.”

My point is, there may be some lowering of expectations.

This story is part of our Wedding Season series.

Li Sian lives in Singapore, which is officially the world’s most expensive city. Follow her on Twitter here.

Photo: Yun Huang Yong

Support The Billfold

The Billfold continues to exist thanks to support from our readers. Help us continue to do our work by making a monthly pledge on Patreon or a one-time-only contribution through PayPal.