My fiancée kept her wedding dress secret for months, so I expected the usual dramatic reveal when the ceremony started. Instead, she walked down the aisle in a black men’s suit that looked decades old, and I had no idea why until I saw the writing inside the cuff.
I’m 34, and Claire is 31. We’d been together for five years before I proposed.
I had been looking forward to our wedding more than I probably admitted.
I wasn’t someone who needed a luxury venue or a 12-tier cake.
I just wanted the normal things.
I wanted to stand at the front and watch Claire walk toward me in a wedding dress.
I wanted to take too many pictures, eat dinner with everyone we loved, dance badly, and finally introduce her as my wife.
Claire knew that.
She wasn’t obsessed with wedding planning, but she seemed completely on board.
We picked a small outdoor venue at an old garden estate about 40 minutes outside the city.
