I have an aversion to weddings. It’s become a sort of schtick of mine, I scoff at Facebook updates that announce relationships, and I’m immediately suspicious of my friends’ announcements that they went on a halfway-enjoyable date. I warn everyone against getting married in the same way that my mom used to warn me about going out of the house with a wet head in winter. Indescribable suffering, doom, and sniffles will befell you, if you decide to pursue a blissful union with another warm body. Call it cynicism, evidence that I need more therapy, or say that I protest too much, but I hate the idea of marriage the way that most people hate the DMV. When a member of my inner circle decides to wed, however, my tune changes faster than a punk album on Shuffle.

This weekend my friends Elliott and Danielle are getting married. And while I could explain why this marriage is so kickass, a brief breakdown has already been published. I’m lucky that one of my closest friends found a girl who is just as incredible, witty, and lovable as he is. It’s the ideal that love stories are supposed to be: I didn’t lose a friend to a relationship, instead I got two friends through my love of one. So I’ll battle my crippling fear of flying and trek out to Sonoma to witness this ceremonial melding of amazing lives. I’m actually looking forward to it. (Not the flying part.) 

Part of my wedding repulsion, the part that doesn’t have to do with Facebook, is associated with the industry of the thing. Men and women spend thousands and thousands of dollars on a single party, which only leads to the sort of mindset that they’re getting "weddinged" instead of married. I don’t need to cite marriage survival statistics, ’cause they’re just depressing, but I believe that there’s a sort of histrionic and irrational notion that creating (and paying for) a memorable wedding will somehow solidify a union. There seems to be a herd mentality, a belief that a relationship’s trajectory and success can be viewed through the myopic scope of one single day. Shows like Bridezillas, Platinum Weddings, and Say Yes to the Dress don’t help to quell the bile that marches up my throat at the thought of a "dream wedding" either. $340 for a cake topper? Give me a fucking break.

Fortunately, destination weddings, like this one in California, are a kinder, gentler, more cost-effective animal. A destination wedding is defined as one that is "200 or more miles away from where the bride and groom live, including non-US locations," with "at least 80% of guests requiring overnight accommodations." Nearly 10% of all couples have destination weddings, with roughly a quarter of them taking place in the United States. Of course, there’s the appeal of getting drunk off of frozen drinks with stripper names and jumping into the ocean after your nuptials, which is why the Caribbean accounts for nearly half of these espousal adventures. It’s closely followed by Mexico, with Florida, Las Vegas, and Hawaii rounding out the most lusted after destinations stateside.

So why are these jet-setting lovefests a $16 billion dollar market? For one thing, they’re comparable cost-wise to a local wedding, with a traditional wedding costing an average of $20,398, and a destination wedding averaging about $20,600. Moreover, if you’re battling a ballooning guest list and don’t feel like inviting your mailman, your ex’s sister, your second cousin with the hair and her boyfriend Skeeter, then book a destination wedding for sure. The average number of guests at one of these things is only 48 people, making the average wedding away from home roughly 1/3 the size of a conventional one. Resorts, hotels, and vacation spots have caught on, marketing to couples looking to tie the knot (or clamp on the ‘cuffs) far from the usual hustle and bustle. While the travel industry limps along during this recession, there’s one thing that destination weddings pretty much can guarantee a hotel: their guests don’t cancel. It’s why destination weddings continue to grow throughout this economic fracas, while the rest of the wedding industry suffers a predictable meltdown.

Honestly, I could care less about weddings, traveling, or wine country. But I don’t know if I could care more about Elliott and Danielle. As far as friends go, they’re top-of-the-line models, and as people they’re inspiring and brilliant enough to make me anxious for them to have kids. (Seriously. He just wrote a Marvel comic book, while she has made latkes over a campfire. This family is going to be so much fun to hang out with.) I might never get over my knee-jerk pessimism regarding engagements,  but this weekend is going to be spent feeling lovey-dovey about weddings, for better or for worse.