The only guests were a few turtles, a fat bloke in the background on a stand up paddle board and our five children, four of them from our previous unions and one 6 year old from ours.
It was as romantic as a wedding could be. We all laughed. We all cried. (And we cried again, but with laughter when we saw the douchey ‘can you both look at your rings’ snaps the photographer took!)
John and I have both been married before and we both had ‘The Big Wedding’. And while they were certainly fun, neither of us wanted to stress, the expense, the politics or the bridal bullshit that seems to accompany the modern day phenomenon of ‘The wedding factory’.
I didn’t want to worry about the seating conundrum, fearing that my big day would be ruined if our chairs didn’t look like they were auditioning for membership in the Klu Klux Klan.
I didn’t want to have to start arguing with John about Guest Eliminations on our new reality show Wedding Invitation Survivor – just who will make the cut – so we could stay in budget.
John and I still have friends from kindergarten. We have clearly not isolated or marginalised enough people in our lives to keep a wedding out of the red.