Exactly twenty years ago today, hubs and I crossed a roaring Bass Strait to Tasmania and eloped, got ourselves hitched. Some said I was too young to settle down. Some said I was absolutely crazy to choose not have a big lavish wedding – “Don’t you want THE fairy tale wedding? But it’s YOUR day! Isn’t it all you’ve ever dreamed about?” And others (namely, my ma) cried bucket loads of tears for missing the chance of seeing me walk down the aisle. But I had to do what I felt was right for me…and hubs, of course, let’s not forget about him.
I’ve always walked to the beat of my own drum and didn’t see why this occasion should be any different. In fact, if ever I was going to make a stand, surely my wedding should be at the top of the list. Right?
Even on my twenty-first birthday, my official entry into adulthood, I chose to do my own thing instead of having the traditional piss-up party with hundreds of guests. Instead, I went to the office, like any other work day, arranging dinner for that night at a nice restaurant for me and my closest family. Nothing huge, nothing extravagant…just how I like it. Although, not much work got done that day. My boss and fellow coworkers decided to take it upon themselves to plaster me with whiskey all day, sending me home that afternoon in a cab. Bless ’em.
No, I’ve never dreamed of flowing white dresses or a horse and carriage. I’ve never fantasised about the release of a dozen heavenly doves as I exit a church filled with elaborate flowers. Yes, I was that girl. “Hell, I’m never getting married.” Ha! Famous last words.
So, why did I change my mind and elope? Well, I can tell you what I did dream about, and that was having a man who loved me, inside and out. A man who would stick by me, no matter what. A man I could laugh with. A man who would adore and care for me, till death do us part.
I found that man. I didn’t need anything else, just this quaint, little chapel, a minister, two witnesses (pilfered resort staff) and a photographer.
And twenty years later…here we are.