Nervously pacing the corridor in my bridal gown, I waited for my brother-in-law to confirm that all 70 guests were ready for my entrance.
And then he nodded. It was time.
I burst into the room to the upbeat rhythm of Good Thing by Reel Big Fish with its symphony of live trumpets, and as I made my way down the aisle, every single face was smiling back at me.
Then, my bridesmaids held aloft their inflatable saxophones in a flash-mob style and my guests erupted in rapturous applause.
By the time I had danced my way to the front of the room, my nerves had vanished. And yet there was no one waiting at the ‘altar’ to take my hand.
No, my groom hadn’t run away. Nor had I been stood up. This was actually all part of the plan.
The white dress, my bridal bouquet, the entire wedding was just for me. I was ‘marrying’ myself, just not literally.
Granted, this wasn’t exactly how I’d always pictured my big day.
I had dreamed of a big wedding since I was a child. Had always pictured a huge party, lots of bridesmaids, and, of course, I’d always assumed that I’d be sharing it with a partner.
I loved the idea of making a promise to weather life’s storms with someone, to vow to stand by them no matter what. And on two separate occasions I’ve thought I’d found just the person to exchange those promises with.
The first time around was with Daniel*. We started dating in 2002 after meeting at university when I was 18-years-old.
We lived in student housing with friends for the first five years of our relationship, and only moved into our first flat (just the two of us and our beloved cat, Gladys) in 2007. But we were an undeniable team.
He supported me through career changes and a period of unemployment. Our relationship was strong and I was sure we were headed to wedded bliss.
Though I was never one to ‘drop hints’, I made it clear from the start that marriage was important to me. Every time I brought the topic up he’d say, ‘maybe one day’. That was all the encouragement I needed to begin planning a wedding I was sure would happen.
I designed my dress myself. I had Pinterest boards that had every detail meticulously planned out. I even had spreadsheets that mapped out the order of what I had to plan, buy, make, and do.
Basically, when the ring finally came, I’d be ready.
In 2012 – the year of our 10 year anniversary – I watched every single one of our friends get engaged and married. And I felt sure my turn must be coming soon.
Yet, our anniversary came and went with no ring, as did Christmas. And I admit, it made me feel completely and utterly worthless.
By New Year’s Eve, I felt I had no choice but to issue him an ultimatum.
Bottom line, I wanted to get married and he didn’t, and though we toughed it out for nearly another year, eventually it ended. (I got to keep Gladys, though).
In September 2013, a month after Daniel and I officially split, I met my next partner, Tom* on OKCupid.
On our third date he asked me about the type of wedding I wanted. It was a very intense question but, as I’d been quite open about wanting marriage on my profile, I was happy to answer.
As I detailed my dream day, Tom nodded along, saying he wanted all the same things and I felt giddy with excitement. It felt like I had finally met someone who shared the same vision of love and romance that I did, so it wasn’t long until I was convinced that this was it.
We were incredibly happy for five years then he broke my trust and I eventually left.
Moving house, starting over (again), and the sudden death of Gladys, left me in a lot of debt. So, heartbroken, I focused my efforts into becoming debt free rather than a relationship and I’m pleased to say I managed to pay off £11,000 of debt in under 10 months.
During that time I also saw an article on a lady in Italy who married herself and I was genuinely inspired. If she could do it, then why couldn’t I?
This is what led me to set up a Facebook Event for my 40th birthday (which was five years away) with the caveat that, if I wasn’t happily engaged or married by then, I would have a wedding for my birthday.
For five years I enjoyed the single life. I began renovating my house, joined a super bougie Country Club and started practising yoga four times a week. I also took up learning sign language, and started volunteering for the Samaritans.
With all that and much more going on, I soon realised that I didn’t need to meet a partner to enhance or improve my life.
I was, I am, actually happier on my own.
The more I thought about it the more I realised my relationships had brought nothing but disappointment and drama. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I wanted a marriage anymore.
But the dress? The cake? The party? I definitely still wanted that.
So, six months before my 40th birthday, I decided I was not going to waste any more time, I was going to make it happen. I reignited the Facebook event, and started planning.
Over one long weekend I booked a suite at a hotel, hired a DJ who would do karaoke, a videographer, a photographer, and a glitter bar. I also had the dress I’d designed all those years ago made, spent £320 on a 3-tier cake and bought £1,200 of dried flowers on Etsy.
Admittedly, a lot of people did not get it at first. ‘Why a wedding?’ asked a family member. Others felt like I was giving up. ‘You might still meet someone,’ insisted my sister. ‘My great aunty Doris got married when she was 65,’ reassured a friend.
While that’s great for aunty Doris, I have already run out of hope of meeting the right partner, and more to the point I didn’t want to. I just wanted to have my big moment now.
February finally arrived and I was a mix of nerves and excitement as we set up the room with a bright backdrop, fairy lights and bunting and before I knew it, 7pm had arrived and it was time for my big entrance.
The room was a carnival of colour, vibrance, energy, love and support, and all my worries evaporated as I shimmied down the aisle. And while there were no vows or ‘I do’s’ there was a wedding breakfast (a hot and cold buffet) and speeches where I signed mine off with a toast to eternal singledom.
I danced until midnight and as my guests filed out, everyone said it was the best wedding they’ve been to.
My bridesmaids even upgraded me to the bridal suite so at the end of the night I fell into an enormous bed and chuckled to myself that I didn’t have to share it.
There was no part of me that lamented having a partner, I’d had a blast.
It wasn’t just a birthday, or a wedding. It was a declaration that I have found the most amazing companions in my life – my guests – and a celebration of survival, resilience, independence, peace, joy and self-love.
I may not have had a ‘traditional’ wedding, but do I feel happy, loved and truly blessed? I do.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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