Dress and veil had to rent, shoes and jewelry remained from the prom.

In my lifetime, I can count two terrible weddings. It would seem that if the wedding day does not start very much, it is better to cancel everything at once. But innate perseverance and education did not allow to yield to the signs of fate. Unfortunately.



To begin with, I never dreamed of a wedding. Unlike the rest of the girls, I preferred to avoid too much attention. But when it comes to an event like a wedding, personal preferences fade into the background. After all, everything “should be like people.”

Wedding number 1. Crying bride and accident Dress and veil had to rent. Shoes and jewelry left from prom. The only pleasant thing I remember from that wedding was a bouquet from my florist friend.

So I'm walking down the carpet of a dull registry office to Mendelssohn's upset march. Around relatives, and ahead of me waiting for a tired look of a woman with a “hala” and her sad speech about ships, sailing and family life. I had the feeling that the ship of my mind had been swallowed by a fog.



After the registrar, we went to the local attractions. It rained that day. The driver was a witness who took the car from his father. After a few miles, we were in an accident. Fortunately, of us, the bouquet that crumbled through the salon was the one that suffered the most, and I, softly sobbing, collected flowers in a bouquet. The first symbolic picture of adulthood, you might say.

Picking up a skirt, I went out in the rain and saw a string of braking cars pulling behind us. If that were the case these days, most people would grab onto the cameras and start filming what was going on, something you don't see very often. Instead, I became the subject of sympathetic views. And I didn't care what they saw: a weeping bride in the rain holding the remains of a bouquet in her hand.



As a result, the husband and the witness with his girlfriend went to the station. And the last thing I remember is the witness and I were driven home in a police car. Fortunately, there was no feast.

Wedding number 2. The second time I decided on a similar adventure to 25 years. This time, I decided that everything would be my way, which caused a lot of misunderstanding from everyone. I did not want to wear the same dress as the one I was offered.

A ring to his liking in a jewelry store had to be demanded against an obsessive saleswoman. Thank you, it was fine and elegant. Now give me that one, wide.
The bridesmaid offered to sign in the same registry office as the last time. It's more convenient for everyone. But no. I've been there twice before, and coming back a third time feels awkward.



This time, we had a limousine with a chauffeur who claimed to have been driving Leonardo DiCaprio. I just nodded. The main thing is to get there normally, what the driver looked at me with perplexity.

The next post was much better than the previous one. The woman with the folder was already without a monumental hairstyle and much more friendly, the music played on the record. The troublemaker was myself. The moment I was supposed to put the ring on the groom's finger, it fell to the floor.

"Bad omen," rumbled in my head as my husband picked up and put on the ring, and threw mine in the air, caught it and placed it on my finger in a second.



Then everything was “like people”: shooting, bread and salt and a restaurant with guests. With the latter, my husband’s colleagues helped us as a gift. And only on the wedding day it turned out that the restaurant was Armenian, and from entertainment they had belly dances and other exotic performances that embarrassed the older generation.



Was this the wedding I wanted? Nope. But as you know, a wedding is more for guests than for the bride and groom. Maybe for the third time it will be as you like.

How many weddings would not have to endure girls and women, I want to wish that on this day all brides were happy. And let no obstacles prevent you from enjoying the wonderful event of uniting two hearts.