Marriage isn’t fair.

To some it is a security blanket, to others, a religious duty.

But to me, marriage has always been a joke.

At least, that’s what I thought a year ago. I was young, single, and starting my third year as a journalism student at the University of Georgia. I had no ties to religion, hated fancy clothes and would have died if I had to put all my relatives in one big room. Marriage wasn’t on my mind.

My two best friends back home in Alabama, ideologically similar to me in many ways, had the same views.

My best girl friend had already started a family with her immigrant boyfriend. She knew a marriage proposal would only lead to legal issues – government officials asking for the dirty details on the truth of their love. She’s a stubborn girl. There was no way she’d go through something other couples didn’t have to.

My best guy friend already had the marriage decision made for him – he’s gay, and that’s not exactly legal where we’re from. Never mind that he’s been in a long-term committed relationship. He’ll have to settle for moving in with his boyfriend.

But now, one year later, I don’t know what I think. I’m about to hit the one-year mark in a very committed relationship and I’m only two months from graduation. I’m at that point where all my friends are asking me when, not if, my man and I will tie the knot.

But while I get to throw passing glances at bridal magazines, what do my old pals get?

They get to prepare answers to personal questions for a government official. They get to avoid the glares of “traditional” neighbors who don’t like the idea of men living together. I always said I’d live in solidarity with them, that I’d refuse the traditional trap of marriage until it was fair for everyone.

But something still draws my eyes to those magazines.

It’s not the ring. I’ve still got enough of my old hippie standards to oppose wearing a rock dug out of the ground by human slaves on my finger.

It’s not about my foreign-born boyfriend’s legal status. I’m not as stubborn as my girlfriend and there are much more legal ways to get citizenship than marriage.

It’s definitely not the social status. My friends alone prove that you don’t need a license to tell you it’s OK to start having children or live together.

I’m torn because I know the real benefits of marriage. It comes with filing joint taxes or with sharing the health benefits offered by a spouse’s job. It comes with adoptions rights, if we want them.

A recent New York Times article explained how a same sex couple could spend up to $469,000 more in their lifetime than a heterosexual married couple, simply based on the loss of benefits and the lack of social security credits. The numbers would be similar for any non-married couple.

My boyfriend and I can have that long-lasting love without a ring. But without signing a piece of paper, the man I plan to spend my life with might not get to make important medical decisions on my behalf if I’m ever too incapacitated to do it myself. Not without that damned ring.

Obviously marriage isn’t for everyone. Not legally and not emotionally. Is it for me? I don’t know.

- Stephanie Jackson is a senior from Birmingham, Ala., majoring in newspapers and English.