There’s nothing traditionally romantic about our first dance song.
It’s weird. It’s horny. It growls and purrs and demands.
And we chose it on purpose.
We almost went with Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran. You know the one: sweet, sweeping, universally approved. It’s the kind of song that makes everyone sigh and slow dance without thinking too hard.
But it didn’t feel like us.
Every Other Freckle by Alt-J isn’t the kind of slow dance that makes people cry in the usual way. It doesn’t swell with violins or spell out forever in soft-focus metaphors. It wants. It claws. It rolls around in the mess of love and doesn’t flinch.
And that? That’s us.
We’re not neat or delicate or simple. We’ve lived whole lifetimes before each other. We’ve carried grief in both hands. We’ve made choices we don’t speak about in polite company. We’ve failed. We’ve survived. We’ve rebuilt.
And now, somehow, we’re standing in front of each other, planning a wedding. Writing vows. Picking colors. Debating table numbers and playlists and whether we’re supposed to care about chair sashes (we don’t).
And yet, in the middle of all that noise, here’s what really matters:
I want every other freckle.
I want the parts of you that most people overlook. The ones that don’t make it into Instagram captions or anniversary cards. I want the hard mornings and the panic spirals. The stubborn silences. The way you shake when you’re holding in too much. The ridiculous trivia facts you hoard like treasure. The way you tuck yourself into my side like it’s your instinct.
I want to be the cat in the sawdust with you.
The crisp packet.
The button you press.
The wallpaper that quietly holds the room together.
I want your ridiculous, specific, hard-won, ordinary, beautiful life—and I want you in mine.
Planning this wedding has been chaotic. Expensive. Overwhelming. Tender. Hilarious. And if I’m honest, it’s brought up every insecurity I didn’t realize I was still carrying: Am I too much? Is this too weird? Do we get to do this our way?
But then we put on that song.
And I remember.
We’re not doing this for anyone else.
We’re doing this because—despite everything—we choose each other.
Freckles and all.