I often get asked how my husband & I met. How long we’ve been married. You know-all the who, what, where, when & why’s. And with our wedding anniversary only 2 days away I thought I’d share our oh-so very unconventional, shotgun wedding story.
Before we get into “the wedding that actually happened” we should go back in time a little…before Dave was even in the picture.
You see, before “doting wife” was added to my title, one could easily call me the “runaway bride.” Julia Roberts doesn’t have shit on my wedding planning skills. Seriously, I’ve planned so many of my own weddings & not one of them ended in me actually walking down the aisle.
If you haven’t figured it out by now, I was engaged, obviously to someone else. My ex was a good guy, but no one pictured us together…probably because he was my own age. 😋 He was pretty opposite from the guys I usually went for. He was quiet & safe. Responsible. Good head on his shoulders, although he didn’t have a choice, his family was a nightmare. His mother was an evil sack of silicone, his dad was a recovering alcoholic who threw himself into his work & was gone 9 months out of the year. One sister was an escort & the youngest was given a boob job & a new car for her high school graduation so that she could go visit her boyfriend in jail. In-law jackpot I tell ya!
During our engagement I planned 3, yes THREE weddings, each ending with me “postponing” it for a little bit (#I’mSuperIndecisive). Attempt #1 didn’t go too far into the planning phase. We had a date & some small things picked out/planned–nothing major. Attempt #2, we had the date, the venue, the florist, the basic necessities. Attempt #3 was the big one. It was planned. The. Entire. Thing. The country club was booked, 100’s of guests, I had my dresses (yes 2), the girls dresses, the guys suits, the food, the cake, the custom dance floor & lighting (at the time I was obsessed with “Platinum Weddings” & “Who’s Wedding Is It Anyway”). The DJ was booked. The shower was done. The hotel rooms were blocked off. All that was left was the actual thing to take place…but it never did. I called it off. Again. This time for the last time. Apparently planning the wedding was a lot more exciting for me than actually having the wedding. Anywho, it was done. We broke up. I never made it to any of those weddings (I still have 1 of the dresses though).
A few months after we broke up I met Dave. Actually, I didn’t meet him for the first time, we worked for the same company so I already knew him, but I couldn’t stand him. I swear if he could of put a mirror on his desk so that we could look in it every time he talked, he would (sorry babe). Anywho, after some time of him nagging me I finally agreed to go out with him…for ice cream?! He was in a similar situation as me, having just ended his engagement as well, so aside from him lying to me about his age, he was pretty cool (he told me he 4 years younger than he really was…either way, I was still 13 1/2 years younger 😋).
Fast forward 3 years & Dave & I had just moved into our new home. 5 weeks later we found out I was pregnant with daughter #1. Surprise! A few months later, it was December, right after Christmas & we were both on vacation until after the new year. I was almost 8 months pregnant & miserable on bed rest so there wasn’t much we could really do with our time off…except get married, obviously. And that’s what we did! Balls to the wall baby! I wore a black (yes black) maternity dress, he wore a regular suit & we trotted on down to town hall & signed our souls over to the devil.
7 years later (10 years total), 2 kids, a dog & 2 guinea pigs & we haven’t killed each other…yet. Or maybe the attempts just haven’t worked. But we didn’t spend months planning. I didn’t have to suffocate in a huge puffy ballgown. We had only 7 or 8 people there. We didn’t have a first dance or go on a honeymoon. And we have ONE (and I don’t even know where it is) awful, swollen, ready to die, picture of us to remember the day, but it worked. I finally made it to my wedding. And while some days I want to put my pillow over his face in his sleep, I think I’ll keep him.
It was my best planning yet. 
So there you have it. Our weird, off the wall, cringe-worthy to some, love story. Take that Cinderella.
*No exes were harmed in the making of this blog. Both are now happily married to other people.
