I couldn't believe it. This was actually happening. I was marrying the woman of my dreams.
When we first met, I was but an undergraduate at Oxford and she, the daughter of the Dean. I introduced myself, but she ignored me, pretended to despise me. I didn't give up, though. I gave her flowers, dresses, attention. Finally, that one night, I climbed up the treliss to her bedroom window. She let me in and on her bed we sat, talking in hushed whispers, and confessing what was in our hearts. We fell asleep together and before dawn, I kissed her sweet lips before sneaking back out the window.
The next time we met, I announced my love to her in public. Her family gave me permission to court her and that I did.
Now, watching her in a dazzling white gown, walking down the aisle, I know this is real. Her lips, her smile, the love in her eyes are all I live for. My bride, my wife, my beautiful Lizzie.
I do.