
We got married in a judge's private office on a Friday afternoon. Besides my husband, the only other people present were my sister, and three close friends. I told my parents a week before we got married what our plans were, and they asked, "Why so quickly? What's the hurry?" It wasn't quick or sudden for us; we'd been talking about getting married for months. The major impediment we kept circling around was that we didn't want a wedding.

After college, like so many other recent graduates frantically staving off real life (or, in my case, the purgatory of a PhD program), I taught English abroad. I got a gig with the Austrian-American Educational Commission that seemed to be designed solely to encourage post-collegiate irresponsibility. I worked 12—you heard me—12 hours a week, and took home about €1,000 a month after taxes. Even after paying €350 in rent each month for the bigger bedroom in our two-bedroom flat, that €650 still stretched a long way.