The Washington Post’s recent foray into the world of “mixed-orientation marriages” reads less like a modern love column and more like a dispatch from a culture that’s decided to deconstruct its own foundational institutions—one hashtag at a time. The article spotlights couples who, by their own admission, aren’t sexually attracted to each other but have nevertheless decided to enter into what they—and The Post—insist on calling “marriage.” But one can’t help but ask: Why bother calling it that at all?
Marriage has never required passion or even compatibility. Arranged marriages, marriages of convenience, loveless marriages—all have their historical place. But even in those cases, marriage carried a specific, intelligible meaning: the union of two people, typically male and female, for the purpose of building a life together—often centered around family, fidelity, and the fusion of two sexes into one enduring partnership.
Now we’re told that marriage includes best friends on the “asexual spectrum,” like April Lexi Lee and Renee Wong, who were inspired by TikTok content about “Boston marriages”—19th-century cohabiting women who may or may not have been romantically involved. In this case, it’s not entirely clear whether these are marriages, friendships, or co-branded lifestyle partnerships designed for algorithmic approval.
Princess Märtha Louise of Norway and Durek Verrett, whose 2024 wedding was featured in the Netflix documentary 'Rebel Royals: An Unlikely Love Story,' reacted to claims they have a “lavender marriage.” https://t.co/jYqkkYhMGw pic.twitter.com/6rZGLZWrZr
— E! News (@enews) October 9, 2025
Meanwhile, in what seems like an SNL sketch retooled for modern sensitivities, Samantha Wynn Greenstone (a straight woman) is married to Jacob Hoff (a gay man). They’ve been together for ten years and even conceived a child through what Greenstone terms as “birds’d and bees’d.” The Post makes sure to emphasize that Hoff isn’t bisexual—just gay. And yet, he fathered a child with his wife the old-fashioned way.
Their assertion? That this somehow elevates the “sanctity” of marriage. One wonders how redefining marriage into a theater of identity negotiation and therapeutic breakthroughs achieves that. More notably, their marriage isn’t just a relationship—it’s a business. Their main occupation appears to be content creation, responding to curious commenters and critics alike. The marriage is the product. The child, perhaps unintentionally, part of the brand.
The whole thing feels like an intentional test of boundaries: How far can the definition of marriage stretch before it snaps?
Marriage, once grounded in shared obligations and ordered toward procreation and permanence, has now become a vehicle for self-expression. It’s performative. It’s curated. And in some cases, it’s marketed—complete with therapy sessions where your therapist reveals she’s a straight woman married to a woman, and everyone stares wide-eyed at their own reflection in the identity funhouse mirror.
So again—why call any of this “marriage”? Because words like marriage still carry social, cultural, and legal weight. And that weight can be harnessed to validate increasingly incoherent arrangements. By retaining the terminology, even while dismantling its content, there’s an air of legitimacy. A tether, however frayed, to something recognizable.
But let’s not pretend this is about inclusion or even love. It’s about redefinition. It’s about replacing substance with symbolism. Once you remove sexual union, lifelong commitment, fidelity, or even mutual romantic attraction from marriage, what exactly are you left with?
The answer, as demonstrated in The Post’s reporting, is a brand partnership in wedding rings. A TikTok algorithm-approved contract between two people who want to participate in the social prestige of “marriage” without the core substance that ever made it a distinct and vital institution.