The Runaway Bride
I’m back, baby! There’s a pep in my step, a new stamp on my passport, and an extra accessory on my left hand. All in all, a fabulous vacation.
Now I’m home and ready to give you all the juicy details about my elopement.
How I feel blogging about my wedding
In Pandemics and In Health
Since childhood women have been taught that a wedding is the most important day of their lives.
As girls, we read stories of princess proposals only to grow up and watch royal weddings on TV. Shows like Say Yes To The Dress glorify see-through gowns that cost more than cars. Tabloids compare celebrity rings, venues, and ceremonies. Every detail has become its own decision: flowers, signage, bridal party proposals, late-night snacks, guestbooks, bachelorettes, colour schemes…not to mention the groom.
In all the noise, one message is crystal clear: you need a wedding to usher in your happily ever after.
COVID, however, doesn’t care about love.
Eloping has become in-Vogue since the pandemic started a war on seating charts. Guest lists are getting cut more than cakes, and many couples have opted for micro-weddings, civil ceremonies, or remote nuptials - a distinct departure from the Friday Bride-Day showcases on TLC.
Eloping is something I’ve always thought was completely badass, but not for me. In fact, I spent most of my downtime from 2009-2012 cruising Pinterest boards for my favourite veils. You know, standard 14-year-old shit.
I thought eloping somehow meant I would be missing out. I wouldn’t get to go dress shopping, pick flowers, or choose a quirky dessert option. The wedding FOMO is forced down our throats from day one, and I never questioned wanting to have it all.
That was before I had to support myself. When I grasped the reality of what a wedding actually costs, my whole mindset changed. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have $10,000 handy to spend on tables and chairs…
At some point, it occurred to me that not every wedding needs every detail. The magic of throwing an event to celebrate your pairing means you can do it however feels the most authentic to you and your partner.
That, and I still get to see dozens of signature cocktails, speeches, and all the other accoutrements that I thought were so scarce as a teen. They just aren’t my own. Hell, I’m writing this blog on the train home from a bachelorette weekend. There’s no shortage of wedding experiences to go around.
Besides, what makes a wedding special are the people throwing it – not the decor. How can you possibly be missing out when you get to marry the love of your life?
What everyone thinks eloping is like
The Proposal
Any good event starts with a plan. I’d say most elopements start with a fantasy. Ours was this:
4 years to the day after we met at a music festival, Mark and I share vows beside a waterfall in Tennessee. No one saw it coming, and the few friends beside us are still overcome with surprise. The next day we pile into an RV with a “just married sign”, blare our wedding playlist, and cruise into Bonnaroo. We do our first dance to Lizzo, Marc Rebillet, and hundreds of other artists. Like always, we grab a photo in front of the ferris wheel - this time in our full wedding get-up – completing a series of anniversary photos already in our home.
The fantasy was inspired by a realization that, against all better judgement, Bonnaroo was scheduled to run for labour day weekend. We bought tickets in February, assuming they’d carry over into 2022. By June it was clear they meant business, and we were ready to celebrate. Why not make it a doubleheader?
When you decide to elope, a few things need to happen.
You need to make sure you’re sure. I mean really sure. This is (hopefully) your only crack at a wedding, so deeply think about it. Did you ever envision something different? Are the little details something you’ll miss? Most importantly, are you ready to defend your choice?
Once you know, you need to decide who else needs to know. Elopements used to be two people running into the sunset, but COVID has made micro-weddings a new Pinterest staple. For us, it was important to tell our parents, but we did our best to keep the rest a surprise. Of all the planning, that was the hardest part.
Before you tell anyone, figure out how much you’re willing to compromise. The day might only be about you two, but you aren’t the only ones missing out on a bigger affair. We wanted our families to have some input. That said, we had a lot of non-negotiables. Know your limit, play within it.
While you’re working through that list, you’ll probably have to tackle a bunch of other items simultaneously. The added stress of only having weeks to plan your wedding day makes everything a little messy. Moreover, it didn’t give our parents much time to process what was happening.
For two months we planned in secret, measuring our ring sizes in between meetings, and arguing about how to announce the news before heading to dinner with friends. We listened to other people’s struggles with their own ceremonies and bookings, dying to relate and ask for advice. I frantically watched TikTok makeups tutorials and subtly asked other brides what they were doing for inspiration. My dress came off the rack, our plans changed daily, and our rings were bought based on shipping time.
Not exactly the romantic moments you picture when you pitch the full idea.
Behind the scenes, we had to reassure each other about every decision. The only soundboard you have in an elopement is each other, which, after a year of isolation, is more like an echo chamber. Every step of the way we had to realign and remember what the point of it all was.
Footage of me planning in July
Rain on Your Wedding Day (or a Hurricane)
Spoiler alert: pretty much none of our plans happened.
There were times when it felt like the universe must not want us to be together. At first, everything went smoothly. We met a photographer who we clicked with immediately, our travel plans were slowly coming together, I found my dream dress in an afternoon, our license was applied for, and we let ourselves get excited.
A month out, everything unravelled. When our parents fully absorbed what was happening, they were hurt. Eloping by nature is contrarian, though I prefer to say ‘punk rock.’ It’s a selfishly romantic endeavour that ignores tradition and shuts many loved ones out.
I knew running away wouldn’t be everyone’s favourite plan, but, as the punks say, ‘fuck the system’.
That said, we also love our moms. We decided it would be more considerate to sign our paperwork in Ontario ahead of time and give the families a chance to bond and be a part of the story.
While we scrambled to get a new license and officiant in Toronto amidst COVID backlogs, our flights to Nashville were cancelled. No major reason was cited, WestJet just hates weddings apparently….We decided to drive, thinking it would be easier to pack a car than a carry-on. The week before our trip the US decided to extend their border closer, forcing us to rebook flights at twice the original cost. Our friends couldn’t front the cost and started pulling out, our budget was swelling, Hurricane Ida was starting to make headlines, and stress was at an all-time high.
I started cracking in a planning session with our moms. They wanted to brainstorm food and games for our signing, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was watching our dream day crumble around us and couldn’t focus on the minutiae of another new plan. Feelings were getting hurt, and we were too far in to give up, no matter how much the extra time would have helped.
Mark and I took most of the obstacles in stride, but at this point, the changes were getting to be too much. Our fantasy was devolving into something we had no control over, and we constantly had to remind each other that this is what we wanted. No matter what, we were getting married, and that was the whole point.
To elope you have to throw certain notions about the “perfect day” out the window. The point is for it to be a go-with-the-flow organic setup. An elopement that’s too finely planned is an oxymoron. The idea is to run away, be spontaneous, and not follow a rule book.
A few days out, and everything we could do was done. Our COVID tests were booked, our bags were packed, and our dream turned into something like this:
4 years to the day after we met at a music festival, the waterfall we wanted go to is flooded from Hurricane Ida. Instead, Mark and I share vows in a 1950s house turned film set.
Before we left for Tennessee, our parents got together to help us sign our paperwork in Ontario. My dad walked me down the path on the side of the house, our moms witnessed, the neighbour’s dog barked along with our officiant, and we played family jeopardy in the living room before dinner. We cried a lot, but ultimately left Canada with huge smiles on our faces.
We made it to Nashville without any hiccups, but weather forced Bonnaroo cancel the day before our ceremony. None of our friends came, but now there’s no need for extra words or planning. In the house it’s finally peaceful. We make our promises, share our rings, and go get a taco with our new friend, the photographer.
We didn’t get to see Lizzo (despite my DMs begging her to hang), but we do go to a pop-up Marc Rebillet show and dance the night away. Even without a ferris wheel, the pictures are better than we ever could have imagined.
After the kiss, we have nothing planned. We spend our week in Nashville making new memories instead of relying on a fantasy.
Happily Ever After
In the end, our fantasy didn’t really matter. When we decided we wanted to elope, the key elements were as simple as this: we love each other, we want to do this now, and we want it to be memorable.
Mission accomplished.
Our wedding was perfect in a completely unintended, completely accidental way. Everything went wrong to make it right.
On the trip, I was coincidentally reading a memoir entitled The Beauty in Breaking in which an ER doctor shares her lessons learnt in the hospital. She finishes the book by equating healing to metamorphosis. Caterpillars don’t just sprout wings in their cocoons. They dissolve into goo and reform themselves into something new.
At the time her writing reminded me of our experience quarantine. My darkest days and Mark’s darkest days swirled around each other in our apartment for months. We closed ourselves inside a huge glob of depression goo. Ultimately, we went into lockdown as individuals and emerged as a partnership.
Our wedding reflects perfectly what our relationship has been: spontaneous, scrappy, and resilient. It was only possible because it dissolved, and we rebult it. I can’t think of a better way to emerge into life together.
And thank God no one forced us to do a garter toss.
