Planning a wedding can amplify life’s big struggles: money, body image, friendships, family ties and fractures. You rank the people in your life, draw a ring around those you’d like to attend and a smaller inner circle for the bridal party, then decide what everyone will wear and who sits with who. It’s ripe for drama and discord.
I got engaged in July 2022 after eight years with my partner. Months after the proposal, we finally planned an engagement party and started dipping our toes into the wider world of weddings. I had been to weddings but never really imagined organising one, so I couldn’t believe how many options there were – or how much everything cost. One evening my fiance had a proposal of a different kind: what if we turned our upcoming engagement party into a surprise wedding? It was six weeks away. Within a couple of days we’d booked a celebrant, photographer and food truck.
In those busy first few days, I joined a Facebook group of almost 80,000 people looking for or giving wedding advice. I had so many questions: how did people prioritise their spending? Which traditions did they adapt or skip? Were there other examples of low-key weddings in a park? I read almost every post that reached my feed, trawled the comments sections and searched the group’s archive.
When my wedding day was over, I no longer needed the group. I’d never posted or commented and I didn’t plan on starting now I’d “graduated” (their parlance for those who’ve pulled off the event). But I stayed anyway, because I am nosy and I love the community.
One woman writes that she is struggling to fill the seats at her wedding. She wants more friends in attendance, real or pretend. The comments section floods: people offer to throw her a hen weekend and to travel from interstate for the big day. Those who live close suggest catching up for a coffee with the goal of striking up a real friendship. And one commenter admits that looking at her own wedding photographs now makes her sad because of how few friends she has.
Every day in this group, people – mostly women – across Australia ask and answer big questions like that among themselves. Posts span from silly and surface-level to vulnerable and heartbreaking.
A 21-year-old about to marry the father of her children asks whether her hesitations constitute cold feet or something bigger. Another woman in another post shares that she and her fiance have decided not to get married and wonders whether the relationship can be resuscitated once the pressure of a wedding is removed.
The responses to both posts are gentle and generous; some suggest counselling, others ways to reconnect. A few share words of warning about the weddings they went through with, against their gut feelings, urging these women not to do the same.
I have seen threads with women offering up their preloved dresses to brides who’ve realised theirs isn’t right; asking for advice upon finding out they’re pregnant; wondering how to navigate hurt feelings around elopements; honour a loved one who has died or respond when someone receives a challenging health diagnosis.
There are many questions about money, from how to pay (“Savings? Loan? Credit card?”) to shaving down the cost.
Renee Apap, married last June, joined the group for just that reason: “To help keep costs down, and work out where and if I was getting ripped off.” She is still a member now.
Kerry Graham told me she used the group to find “support with body positivity”, including suggestions for dresses and beauty services “without judgment”. Now married, she has remained in the group “as I love seeing people’s weddings come together” and enjoys suggesting budget-friendly ideas. “I feel good to know you can help someone save costs, even if a little.”
Jessica Barker originally came for the savings, saying: “I’ve been broke since planning the wedding, so being able to save here and there was a true blessing.”
But more than that, Barker was looking for a community, because “my mum has passed away, and … [I] didn’t really have the best idea how to plan myself.”
One bride posts wedding photos to the group after going ahead with her elopement just days after a miscarriage. At the time of writing, the post has 938 likes and dozens of comments expressing well wishes and condolences. One woman in the comments thread shares a similar story of her own, saying she understands the way a wedding after a period of loss acts as a light at the end of the tunnel.
There is tenderness and connection here. I’m not alone in feeling it or in sticking around. This is the power that safe digital spaces can hold.
For me this wedding-related Facebook group offers a daily dose of generosity and humanity; for others it could be a Discord server, Reddit thread, a fan account or a high school group chat. We might not contribute to their rhythms, but it can be enough just to exist in these online villages, to wander their streets and pause to eavesdrop.
Even if they’re no longer useful, we’re drawn back by our curiosity, nostalgia or plain old nosiness. When time spent online can so often make us feel worse about ourselves and the world, it makes a big difference to feel at home somewhere.
Or as Bronwyn Pearce, married in October, still a member of the wedding group, puts it: “Amongst all the … nonsense we see on socials, it’s nice to scroll through photos of people’s happiest moments.”
