I should have thrown myself in front of a train, instead of throwing myself under a bus.

Eloped to avoid prima nocta. Me lord was a fat-kidneyed fopdoodle, a bedswerver and a bespawler.

I’d change what I booked for the honeymoon. We went to Turkey and it was too hot and we both got sick.

I’d have just booked a cottage somewhere nice here in the UK.

I would have spent more time at my wedding basking in the moment.

I cared too much being the good host. And I didn’t get to fully be present at the happiness of holding her hand in marriage.

Would have gotten us both mental health drugs and therapy way sooner. Would have had some honest conversations way sooner than we had them. We wouldn’t spend nearly so much time angsting about making other people, especially our parents, happy around the wedding itself because a lot of those things didn’t matter in the long term but took away from our enjoyment of the event for our sake.