Never mind the lost luggage and delayed flights — driving the scenic idylls in Scotland was everything I thought it would be. I didn’t see any questionable scoundrels or fleeing maidens that I recognized, but my excitement was mounting over every kilometer we traveled. We were going to elope at Gretna Green — famous for runaway weddings since 1754!
Luckily, I had packed my wedding gear as carry-on and he picked up his gear the day of the ceremony. My, what a handsome fella in the full outfit: a heavy wool kilt, long socks, shoes with the twisty laces, sporran, vest, and jacket.
He already had the beard and with a flask of whiskey to top it off. He was perfect.
It was a beautiful day as I sashayed across the road from our little cottage to the Gretna Green Blacksmith’s Shop. I was suitably nervous, and not just because literal busloads of tourists were disembarking from their faux-stage coaches and gaping at my red and tartan dress, billowing in the gentle breezes. We were actually going to do this!
Inside was hushed and the loudest noise was the rustle of my skirt. The “minister” had a bloody great sledgehammer, which he smashed a few times against the anvil, just for good measure. We made it through the short ceremony, fingers intact, and headed out for photos.
It was the perfect third wedding… yup, that was our third wedding. And yes, before you can ask, all three have been with the same man.
The first time we had a proper wedding was in Sydney, the second time was a vow renewal in Vegas, and this time it was a blessing over the anvil. Scotland rules!
So, why all the weddings? Are we addicted to weddings?
I had dated a handful of guys before I proposed on the first date to my three-times-husband, but I always knew — regardless of what I thought at the time — that they weren’t “the one.” I knew what “the one” would look like: dark hair, Irish pale skin, probably an overbite and green eyes, though I wondered if green eyes was wishful thinking and that I might have to settle for blue.
Regardless, I knew what I wanted. So much so that the blonde cartoon boy on my favorite pillowcase as a child was just not my type.
I’ve been waking up to my dream guy for the last 12 years. He may snore a bit and breathe stale morning breath into my face as I stare at his annoyingly long lashes before he snorts himself awake, but I have still loved him since day one, hence the first date proposal.
So, how do we keep things interesting for the rest of our lives? We are a couple in need of adventure, but we’ve already lived a lot in our comparatively short time together — marriage, kids, moving overseas and then interstate all within 7 years.
Weddings became our thing. Our adventure. My husband smiles knowingly every time I jokingly (not joking) plan our next one. Who doesn’t want to wear a beautiful dress all over again? And he hasn’t minded playing dress-up on occasion either.
Of course, we can’t keep getting married over and over again. With three boys running around, we are better off spending our money on 10,000 pairs of pants with reinforced kneepads than another wedding, though I have already chosen the next dress. A girl can dream.
Micayla Lally is the author of the contemporary romance A WORK OF ART (May 2, 2017; She Writes Press)