It wasn’t the kind of wedding you’d find on Pinterest.

The aisle runner was slightly crooked, one of the candles blew out halfway through the ceremony, and someone’s phone went off right as the bride started her vows.

But it’s the one I still remember.

There was no grand violin entrance or carefully rehearsed moment. The couple just stood there, both slightly shaking — not from nerves, but from something heavier. You could feel it in the air. A sort of raw, unfiltered honesty.

That’s the thing no one tells you when you’re planning a wedding:

people don’t remember the perfect details.

They remember how it felt to be there.

At this wedding, I sat next to an old woman who turned out to be the groom’s high school art teacher. She leaned over, mid-ceremony, and whispered, “He used to sketch her in the margins of his notebook before they even dated.”

She laughed, not out of amusement, but out of some quiet recognition.

That’s the kind of thread that holds things together — invisible, but strong.

Later, during dinner, there were no strict timelines. No DJ cutting people off. The bride’s little brother hijacked the mic to tell a story about how she once drove four hours just to bring him his forgotten art project. He cried halfway through, then made a joke about it. The crowd cried too, then laughed. All in the same breath.

You can’t plan that kind of moment.

The table settings weren’t symmetrical, but someone had hand-written each name card in gold ink. Some were smudged. No one cared. Actually, the smudge on mine made me weirdly sentimental. It meant someone held it. Touched it. Thought of me when writing it.

That’s what gets left out of the checklists and timelines.

You’ll find plenty of guides online about wedding décor trends, floral arrangements, or how to pose for the “perfect” photo. But almost no one tells you to plan for imperfection. To create space for the unexpected.

Because that’s where the good stuff lives. In the pauses. The awkward toasts. The song that wasn’t supposed to play but did. The wine stain someone never got out of their sleeve.

You want people to walk away saying, “That was so them.”

Not just, “That was pretty.”

So here’s what I’ve learned:

You don’t need a flawless wedding to make it unforgettable.

You need presence.

You need heart.

And if a few things go wrong along the way, maybe that’s exactly what makes it right.