On December 30th 1995, John and I were married in a lavish ceremony that included horse-drawn carriages, dozens of white doves released into the air, royalty, and way more glitz than all those Bachelor/Bachelorette TV weddings put together.
Ha - gotcha.
Actually it was a pretty simple ceremony, as ceremonies go. And there were no horses - hell, we barely even made it to the reception hall because we'd forgotten to organize a ride for our dumb selves. Luckily one of the groomsmen (not for the horses) happened to be hanging around the church so we got a lift with him in his rented Neon. Sweet ride for the newly established mr. and mrs.
I said it then, and I will say it until I draw my last breath. It's not about the dress, the ring, the doves or the champagne fountains, the favours or the linen. It doesn't have to be storybook, textbook, MarthaStewartLivingbook, none of that. It does have to be perfect in that the match is perfect. That the person you've promised to spend the rest of your life with is perfect - and not in a Cosmo-ten-ways-to-determine-if-he's-perfectly-into-you way - just perfect - for you, and you alone. And damn it if I didn't get me some near perfection all those years ago. On that day I figured I was about the luckiest girl in a white dress ever, and I stand by that today. Sure there have been some ups and downs, some shit has gone down. But all in all, it's perfect.
Happy Anniversary, John. I will always love you. (think Dolly, not Whitney...)