Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock somewhere, you probably know that Prince Harry and Meghan Markle tied the knot last Saturday. For for the most part, I was disinterested. And I certainly didn’t set my alarm for 4 a.m. in an effort to catch every moment of the celebration.
But as I drank my coffee and scrolled through social media that morning, I noticed a number of my friends had done just that. After weeks of speculation and expectation, they were finally able to weigh in on the big day. Some were reporting their own blow-by-blow accounts as the events unfolded—to include posting photos they’d taken of their TV screens.
Before I knew it, curiosity took hold, and I tuned into the coverage.
I must admit—much like the weddings of his parents, and that of his brother and sister-in-law, Prince Harry’s wedding reeled me in with little resistance. And I was quite happy to be a spectator to their happily ever after. Even if everything wasn’t perfect.
I tuned in about two-thirds of the way through the ceremony. So other than having to deal with the annoying TV commentators,
I’d successfully dodged the pre-wedding fluff and stuff.
As I settled into the fanfare with my second cup of coffee, the first thing to jump out at me was the excess sympathy directed toward Meghan’s mother, who attended the event solo.
While the world of social media royal wedding armchair pundits lamented her gross misfortune of having to attend sans date, they underscored that fact that going stag to the royal wedding wasn’t in keeping with their version of happily ever after.
Then there was the case of the small rumpus that broke out between two of the flower girls, sisters aged 6 and 7. As they made their way out of the St. George’s, one of them poked the other with her bouquet of flowers. Twice. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if the march out of the church would come to a screeching halt while the two sisters duked it out.
And in the end, maybe that’s why I enjoyed watching. Because with all of the formality, pomp and circumstance, it was believable. The wedding guests and attendants were human. Everything wasn’t perfect.
Yet it was enchanting enough that even for a cynic like me, a bit of wonder hung in my mind. As in I wonder why I never married a prince. And I wonder if it’s time we all embrace the fact that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be happily ever after.