Welcome to a whirlwind tour of love that defies logic—here are 10 people who married inanimate objects, proving that true devotion can be found in the most unexpected places.

10 People Who Married Objects

10 Linda Ducharme

In 2015 the Floridian made a splash on TLC’s reality series My Strange Addiction. While the show’s title suggests a compulsive habit, Ducharme insists she isn’t hooked on carnival rides—she’s simply fallen head‑over‑heels for one. Her beloved is Bruce, a towering Ferris wheel.

Ducharme first laid eyes on Bruce at a traveling carnival back in 1982. After a three‑decade courtship she pledged to love, honor, and obey the 21‑meter‑tall (70‑foot) steel giant in 2012. When a 1986 storm battered the wheel, forcing its retirement, Ducharme rescued the wreckage and has since poured nearly $100,000 into restoring her mechanical soulmate.

According to Ducharme, sharing a life with a Ferris wheel is no different from any other marriage. She talks about spending quality time together and even enjoys candlelit dinners beside the rotating spokes.

Bruce isn’t her first unconventional sweetheart; before settling down with the wheel, Ducharme dated a plane and a train, proving her affection for non‑human companions runs deep.

9 Zheng Jiajia

Zheng Jiajia, a 31‑year‑old artificial‑intelligence engineer, felt pressure from his family to find a wife. In a country where a gender imbalance left many men without eligible partners, he turned to technology for a solution.

In 2016 Zheng built a robot named Yingying and, after a brief two‑month romance, walked her down the aisle. The ceremony was modest yet traditional, complete with a red scarf draped over Yingying’s head and friends and relatives bearing witness.

Yingying’s current capabilities are modest—she can recognize simple images and utter a handful of words—but Zheng has grand plans: he hopes to program her to walk unaided and eventually handle chores like laundry and dishwashing.

8 Babylonia Aivaz

In January 2012 a Seattle resident wed a 107‑year‑old warehouse just weeks before the building’s slated demolition. The ceremony, attended by about 50 onlookers, was framed as a gay marriage because the structure was deemed female.

The event sparked protest, with some demonstrators fearing it might undermine the burgeoning marriage‑equality movement. Critics argued that legalizing a union between two women could set a precedent for human‑to‑object marriages, such as a building.

Aivaz, however, chose to sidestep the gender debate and instead highlighted the pressing issue of gentrification. The aging warehouse was slated to be torn down for new apartments, and her ceremony aimed to draw attention to that loss.

After the vows, Aivaz continued advocating for neighborhoods facing gentrification, though she never married another building during subsequent protests.

7 Hsum

Chang His‑hsum endured a heartbreaking tragedy when his first wife, Tsai, took her own life after their families opposed their marriage. Seeking closure, Chang turned to a symbolic union: in 1999 he married a Barbie doll to honor Tsai’s spirit.

The ceremony unfolded at a local Buddhist temple. Barbie was dressed in a traditional wedding gown and wore a gold necklace that had once belonged to Tsai, allowing the family to finally bless the marriage.

Tsai’s dowry had included a red Mercedes; during the ritual a paper replica of the car was burned, granting Tsai a vehicle for the afterlife.

Following the ceremony, Chang returned home with his human wife, his new Barbie bride, and an urn containing Tsai’s ashes. In Chinese culture, object‑based spiritual marriages are not unheard of, but choosing a Barbie doll as a stand‑in for a deceased spouse is certainly unique.

6 Tracey Emin

London‑based artist Tracey Emin, renowned for her provocative work, added another headline‑grabbing chapter to her life in 2015 by marrying a stone.

The stone now resides in the garden of her French home, and while the ceremony was private, Emin has spoken openly about the motivations behind the commitment.

Reading the intimate letters exchanged between Pope John Paul II and philosopher Anna‑Teresa Tymieniecka sparked a contemplation of spiritual versus physical bonds. Emin describes her stone as a “beautiful ancient stone” that serves as an anchor—“it’s not going anywhere.”

She admits that on bad days the stone lifts her spirits. Emin also insists on calling her spouse a stone rather than a rock, drawing a distinction: a rock is cut by humans, whereas a stone is shaped by the Earth itself.

5 Richard Torres

Environmental activist Richard Torres has taken his love for nature to the next level by walking down the aisle with trees.

Often described as a “Johnny Depp doppelganger,” Torres isn’t romantically enamored with his leafy partners; his marriages are acts of advocacy, intended to spotlight ecological concerns.

In 2013 he wed a tree in Peru, marking the start of his tree‑marriage campaign. A few months later he performed a similar ceremony for an Argentinian tree in a Buenos Aires park, complete with vows, a ring, and a kiss.

The following year he married another tree in Bogotá, Colombia, where he appealed to the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia to cease hostilities and start planting trees.

2016 saw Torres unite with a Cypress tree in Mexico—El Tule, one of the world’s oldest and widest trees. He continues to marry trees, most recently in Guatemala City, using each ceremony to raise awareness for his environmental cause.

4 Jodi Rose

Le Pont du Diable, the Devil’s Bridge in southern France, has stood since the 14th century. In 2013, Jodi Rose exchanged vows with this stone arch, a ceremony blessed by the local mayor and witnessed by fourteen guests.

Rose first encountered the bridge while traveling for her “Singing Bridges” project, which records bridge‑cable vibrations to create music. She fell for the structure’s steadfastness.

She praises the bridge for its fixed, stable, and earth‑rooted nature—qualities she values in a partner. Rose appreciates that the bridge offers a safe haven yet never hinders her when she’s ready to move on.

3 Sal 9000

Love Plus, a Japanese dating‑simulation game, tasks players with courting one of three virtual women by gifting and dating them. The avatars respond to the player’s actions throughout the courtship.

A man known online as “Sal 9000” built a virtual romance with Nene Anegasaki, one of the game’s characters. After three months of digital dating, Sal decided to take the ultimate step and married Nene in 2009.

Sal explains that Nene is his dream woman—she never gets angry, and when she does, she quickly forgives. He feels no need for a human partner because his virtual wife fulfills his desires.

Experts who study internet and gaming addictions note that Sal communicates adequately in the real world, suggesting his marriage to a video‑game avatar isn’t indicative of a severe problem.

2 Lauren Adkins

Teenage heartthrobs often inspire daydreams of becoming Mrs. Celebrity Crush. Lauren Adkins, however, turned that fantasy into a lifelong commitment.

As a teenager, she devoured the Twilight novels and fell hard for Edward Cullen, the brooding vampire. When the books became movies, Robert Pattinson’s portrayal cemented her obsession.

Realizing the odds of marrying the actual actor were slim, Adkins purchased a life‑size cardboard cutout of Pattinson and married it in 2014 at the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel, with fifty guests in attendance.

The newlyweds then honeymooned in Los Angeles, celebrating a union that existed only in cardboard form but felt very real to Adkins.

1 Carol Santa Fe

Carol Santa Fe first encountered her soulmate at the tender age of nine—a train station in San Diego known as the Santa Fe Depot, affectionately called “Daidra.” After 36 years of devotion, she formalized the bond in 2015.

Each day she spends a 45‑minute commute just to be near Daidra, greeting the station, sharing the details of her day, and even engaging in mental intimacy.

Carol describes a private mental “sex” with the station, noting that certain quiet corners allow her to imagine Daidra’s touch and kiss. The roar of arriving trains, she admits, heightens her arousal.

She keeps her affection discreet to avoid public backlash—citing how another woman was barred from the Eiffel Tower after excessive displays of affection—so she can continue her cherished routine with Daidra.

We’ve heard about governments taking people to court. But what about the government taking nonliving things to court? As it turns out, the United States has done just that—and more than a few times. In this top 10 times roundup we dive into the most eyebrow‑raising cases where inanimate objects found themselves on the legal docket.

Top 10 Times the Government Took Inanimate Objects to Court

10 United States v. 434 Main Street, Tewksbury, Massachusetts

United States v. 434 Main Street, Tewksbury, Massachusetts was a joint lawsuit in 2012 filed by the Tewksbury Police Department together with the U.S. Department of Justice against a motel owned by Russ Caswell. The motel, originally built by Caswell’s father in 1955, sits at the address cited in the complaint.

The two agencies collaborated to seize the property under a civil forfeiture statute that permits the government to take assets linked to criminal activity. Critics argue that the law is often misused, likening its abuse to outright robbery.

The motive boiled down to cash. The Justice Department hoped to auction the motel for roughly $1.5 million, with the police department slated to receive 80 percent of the proceeds. Police teamed up with the Justice Department because Massachusetts state law would likely have blocked the seizure.

During the case, prosecutors claimed that drug dealers frequently used the motel, even though only a modest 15 drug transactions were recorded between 1994 and 2008.

A Massachusetts district court eventually ruled that the government could not confiscate the property, finding no evidence that Caswell or his spouse were involved in the drug deals. Moreover, the authorities never attempted to stop the dealers nor warned the owners of any repercussions for allowing the activity to continue.

9 United States v. One Package Of Japanese Pessaries

In 1873, Congress enacted the Comstock Act, which prohibited the sale and distribution of sexual materials, including books and contraceptives. The law sparked fierce debate among women’s‑rights advocates who championed birth‑control access. The government reinforced the act with the Tariff Act of 1930, empowering Customs to seize any contraceptive shipments entering the United States.

In January 1933, Customs intercepted a parcel containing contraceptives destined for Dr. Hannah Stone, a physician associated with the Birth Control Clinical Research Bureau in New York. The bureau, founded by Margaret Sanger, aimed to distribute contraceptives, though Sanger presented the effort as a research endeavor.

Customs chose to sue the package itself rather than Dr. Stone, arguing that the physician could not be charged because she had not yet taken possession of the parcel. Sanger hired two attorneys to defend the shipment, contending that contraceptives were essential for disease prevention.

On December 10, 1935, a district court ruled that Customs lacked authority to seize the package, as the Tariff Act did not apply. The case proceeded to the Court of Appeals, which, on December 7, 1936, held that physicians were exempt from the Tariff Act. This landmark decision paved the way for doctors to sell contraceptives for birth‑control purposes, rather than solely for treating disease.

8 United States v. Approximately 64,695 Pounds Of Shark Fins

In 2002, the U.S. Coast Guard (USCG) seized a vessel transporting roughly 64,695 pounds of shark fins bound for Guatemala. The ship, King Diamond II, had been contracted by Hong Kong‑based Tai Loong Hong Marine Products, Ltd. (TLH) to collect shark fins from fishing boats on the high seas and ship them to Guatemala for sale.

During litigation, the Coast Guard argued that the vessel violated the Shark Finning Prohibition Act, which bans the sale of shark fins. Initially, the government named the ship as the defendant but later switched to suing the fins themselves. The Coast Guard claimed the King Diamond II qualified as a fishing vessel because it had assisted another fishing vessel at sea, a point the district court accepted, resulting in TLH forfeiting the fins to the government.

TLH appealed, asserting that the ship was not a fishing vessel, as it never aided any fishing boat and merely purchased fins from one. In 2008, the Court of Appeals sided with TLH, finding that the Magnuson Act, which underpins the Shark Finning Prohibition Act, did not clearly define “fishing vessel.” Since the statute never prohibited buying shark fins, TLH’s actions were deemed lawful.

7 United States v. One Solid Gold Object In The Form Of A Rooster

In July 1960, the federal government issued an arrest warrant for a rooster—not a living bird, but a 6.4‑kilogram (14‑lb) solid‑gold rooster. The sculpture was displayed in a glass case at the Nugget Casino in Sparks, Nevada, commissioned in 1958 by casino owner Richard L. Graves to promote a fried‑chicken restaurant inside the casino.

The piece was created during a period when the United States required citizens to surrender gold under the Gold Reserve Act of 1934. Secret Service agents met with Graves, informing him that the rooster violated the Act, but they left him alone after confirming he had permission from the San Francisco Mint.

In July 1960, federal agents seized the rooster and stored it in a California bank vault. The rooster appeared before a jury in July 1962, where Graves and the Treasury Department debated whether the piece was a work of art or a commercial tool.

The Treasury argued the rooster served commerce because it advertised a restaurant. Graves’s attorney, Paul Laxalt—future lieutenant governor, governor, and senator—maintained it was art. Laxalt won, and Graves reclaimed the golden rooster. Had he lost, the rooster would have been melted down and added to the Federal Reserve.

6 United States v. One Tyrannosaurus Bataar Skeleton

In 2012, Heritage Auctions in Dallas prepared to auction the bones of a Tyrannosaurus bataar (also known as Tarbosaurus bataar) when a court order halted the sale. The injunction was filed on behalf of the Mongolian government, which suspected the 70‑million‑year‑old fossil had been illegally excavated from Mongolia and shipped to the United States. Mongolian law declares that all fossils unearthed within its borders belong to the state.

The U.S. government seized the dinosaur and brought it before a court. The primary suspect, Eric Prokopi, was not initially charged due to insufficient evidence of illegal acquisition. However, investigations later revealed that Prokopi had indeed excavated the fossil from the Gobi Desert and exported it illegally.

On October 17, 2012, Homeland Security agents raided Prokopi’s home, discovering another Tyrannosaurus bataar skeleton. A delivery truck even arrived with additional fossils while agents were on site. Prokopi was later charged in a separate case titled The United States of America v. Eric Prokopi.

In addition to the fossil‑theft charges, Prokopi faced customs‑fraud allegations for lying to U.S. Customs about the package’s contents. He received a three‑month prison sentence—far less than the possible 17 years—thanks to the judge’s leniency, citing his cooperation with investigators.

5 United States v. Forty Barrels & Twenty Kegs Of Coca‑Cola

On October 20, 1909, federal agents enforcing the Pure Food and Drug Act seized 40 barrels and 20 kegs of Coca‑Cola syrup en route from Atlanta, Georgia, to Chattanooga, Tennessee. The act aimed to prevent the sale of dangerous foods, and officials claimed caffeine—a stimulant present in the drink—was hazardous to health.

The Coca‑Cola Company and the government faced off in court in 1911. Representing the government was Harvey Washington Wiley of the Department of Agriculture, who argued caffeine was poisonous. Wiley targeted Coca‑Cola specifically, rather than tea or coffee, because caffeine was not a natural ingredient of the soda and the company marketed it to children.

The Coca‑Cola Company hired Harry Hollingworth to conduct a study on caffeine’s effects. Hollingworth concluded that while Coca‑Cola was a mild stimulant, it was not dangerous. The judge ruled that caffeine was a necessary ingredient, and the government lost the case.

The government appealed, but the loss stood. However, the Supreme Court ruled in 1916 that the company should reduce caffeine content, prompting Coca‑Cola to adjust its formula.

4 United States v. Thirty‑Seven Photographs

In 1971, the U.S. government launched legal action against 37 photographs deemed obscene that had been brought into the country by Milton Luros on October 24, 1969. US Customs seized the images because they violated statutes prohibiting the importation of pornographic material.

Luros argued the pictures were not pornographic; while they could be classified as obscene, his intention was to incorporate them into a book outlining various sex positions.

The court found that the law banning the importation of obscene material was unconstitutional and ordered Customs to return the photographs to Luros.

3 United States v. $124,700 In U.S. Currency

On May 28, 2003, Emiliano Gomez Gonzolez was driving along Interstate 80 in Nebraska when he was stopped for speeding. During the stop, an officer noted that Gonzolez’s name did not match the rental contract for the vehicle. A sniffer dog also alerted the officer to the presence of something in the car.

A search of the vehicle uncovered $124,700 hidden inside a cooler, which officers promptly seized.

In 2006, Gonzolez’s business partners denied any drug‑related activity in court, claiming the money had been contributed to purchase a refrigerated truck needed for a new venture. Gonzolez had flown to Chicago to collect the truck, only to discover it had already been sold.

Unable to return by air due to a one‑way ticket, Gonzolez relied on a friend to rent the vehicle, as he lacked a credit card. The court determined the cash was unrelated to drugs and ordered its return to Gonzolez. However, an appeals court later overturned that decision, ruling that law‑enforcement officers had the right to seize such a large sum from anyone.

2 United States v. Eight Thousand Eight Hundred And Fifty Dollars In United States Currency

On September 10, 1975, U.S. Customs seized $8,850 from Mary Josephine Vasquez as she arrived from Canada at Los Angeles International Airport. Federal law mandates that anyone carrying more than $5,000 in currency must declare it upon entry. Vasquez failed to do so, and when questioned, she claimed she possessed less than $5,000.

Customs officers later discovered the true amount and seized the cash. Initially, officials suspected Vasquez of drug involvement, but investigations revealed no connection. The agency argued she had deliberately lied to a Customs officer.

In March 1977, Customs filed a suit to forfeit the money to the government. Vasquez challenged the suit, contending that the 18‑month gap between seizure and filing violated due‑process rights. A district court ruled the delay was reasonable given the circumstances and allowed the government to retain the funds.

An appeals court subsequently reversed that decision, siding with Vasquez.

1 United States v. One Lucite Ball Containing Lunar Material (One Moon Rock) And One Ten Inch By Fourteen Inch Wooden Plaque

On March 24, 2003, a U.S. District Court in Florida ruled on a dispute between the government and a 1.1‑gram moon rock attached to a wooden plaque. The rock and plaque had originally been presented to Honduras by President Nixon in 1973 and were kept at the Honduran presidential palace until they vanished, later resurfacing in the United States.

The items were in the possession of Alan Rosen, who had purchased them from retired Honduran colonel Roberto Argurcia Ugarte for $50,000. The colonel initially demanded $1 million but settled for $50,000, despite lunar dust specimens fetching ten times that amount at the time. The colonel claimed the rock and plaque were gifted to him after a 1973 coup.

Rosen paid $10,000 in cash, provided a refrigerated truck valued at $15,000, and gave two $5,000 installments, still owing the colonel $15,000 when the government seized the rock.

NASA learned of the rock’s whereabouts and launched an undercover operation to recover it. An agent placed a newspaper ad seeking to buy moon rocks; Rosen responded, proposing a $5‑10 million price, eventually settling for $5 million.

U.S. Customs became involved, and on May 4, 1999, the Honduran government formally requested the return of the plaque and moon rock, alleging theft between 1990 and 1994. The U.S. government sued to retrieve the items from Rosen and prevailed.