Where my ideal wedding should be

Weddings should be sunny.

–Jing Xian, on wedding ceremonies

Some time ago I chanced upon the topic of wedding ceremonies, and where I would like to have it, if I faced no restriction whatsoever. It was a question I never gave much thought about before, although it should, I think, especially as one with that much potential to reveal something about yourself.

I remember a classmate of mine once remarked that he would like a banquet with French course meals instead of the usual Chinese one. At that time I thought it was an idea worth considering, even though young and ignorant I had– and still have– no idea what French courses were like, and only liked the idea for its pretentiousness. Thankfully, I am no longer blindly pretentious. (I am only most cognizantly so.)

So I cast my mind around, and swiftly decided upon the most romantic scene my mind could imagine at that moment: cliffs, stark and jutting against the cheerless grey sky, and right below, a black sea dashing against boat-threatening rocks.

A cave under the cliff wouldn’t hurt either.

In part it was influenced by the bleak harsh atmosphere of Wuthering Heights, where roaring gusts threshed the rugged moors at the scene where the most epic love was set. And, you know, angry sea to complete the whole dramatic picture.

I am such an English Romantic.

Today I chanced upon this topic again, and gave my almost-impossible vision some more thought, mostly along the lines of why the heck do you want to have a wedding in such a depressing place?? Since, yknow, weddings should be sunny.

Neglecting the fact that I hate the sun.

There’s something in that vision that feels so right, though, right down to the mood and solemnity. To think about it: this is the event where you throw yourself to the wind, let it tear you asunder, come what may etc, where life is– like a DNA helix shredded into half– forcibly fused with another’s. There should be violence. There should be vertigo. There should be the wind whipping your cheeks red, flinging your clothes and hair to the most disheveled disorder. And through it all your voices thin against this awesome force: I do, I will.

Now if only I can convince all my wedding guests to fly to the UK for this uncannily elopement-like ceremony. Instead, I think I will more likely get stuck with the usual Chinese banquet.


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