I knew this wedding was going to be different the moment Michelle tripped over her own dress during the rehearsal and just laughed — not a nervous, cover-it-up laugh, but a full, head-thrown-back laugh that rolled through the room until everyone else was laughing too. And Eric? He didn’t rush to fix it, didn’t smooth the scene, didn’t make it neat. He just offered his hand, like it was the most obvious thing in the world for a man to do.

Most weddings are not like this one

And here’s the thing—most weddings, if I’m honest, are a show. People smile because the photographer tells them to smile. They kiss because the officiant says it’s time. They dance because the DJ insists. There’s nothing wrong with that—it’s tradition, it’s rhythm, it’s the way things usually go. But, if I’m being honest, it starts to feel like I’m photographing a script, like everyone’s rehearsed for a play that only runs one night.

But every once in a while lightning strikes and I get to see something different, lived in, and brought back to us. Unscripted. Like a bride who laughs at herself and a groom who doesn’t need to fix her because he’s steady enough for both of them.

Michelle is gorgeous, glowing, radiant—yes, you see her and think, “Oh, how photogenic.” Let me tell you: she’s utterly unphotographable. Why? Because she has this habit of blinking at the exact second the shutter clicks. It’s uncanny. Family portrait, blink. Cutting the cake, blink. First kiss, blink. I’d have a better chance catching Bigfoot on camera than her with both eyes open. Imagine the poor me, the photographer, flipping through 800 shots thinking, “Was she conscious?”

Then there’s Eric. Oh, Eric. Now, he’s not a blinker—he’s a mover. Try telling this man to stand still for a picture. He’ll nod, say “Sure, sure,” and one second later, he’s adjusting his tie, turning sideways, scratching his ear, or—God help us all—launching into a story with hand gestures. Every photo looks like a slideshow on “The Many Phases of Confusion.” You don’t even get the same man twice. But together? Together they’re the most charismatic couple in the room. I want to hang out with them more. Go for coffee. Go for drinks, have dinner. I want to be invited to family barbecues but photographing them is impossible. Michelle is blinking, Eric is moving, and I’m sweating bullets.

It’s more than just a wedding photo

But here’s what I discovered over the years—the photographs aren’t for me. They weren’t for my portfolio, or for the applause, photographic competitions, or even for this one perfect night. They were for the hard days ahead, for the moments when life will feel heavy, or complicated, or uncertain. For the mornings when they’ll need to be reminded of who they are together. I was able to see between the blinks and the fidgets and found there were these moments—tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it moments—where they just looked at each other and everything stopped. The chaos, the nerves, all of it—it just… melted. I saw the groom’s whole face soften, and the bride’s smile light up, and suddenly the world was still enough to hold it forever. And that’s the magic. Not polished, not posed, not picture-perfect. Because that wasn’t them.

These are the frames the seasoned photographer doesn’t delete and are most proud of. Because in those unposed moments, I saw the way he looks at her like she’s the only person on Earth. I see the way she can’t help but laugh, because with him, life is never still, never quiet, never ordinary. That’s what I saw that day. And, while I may have cringed at the rehearsal dinner, and said, “Never again, these two are impossible”, that’s not how I truly fell, because as someone who stood there and witnessed it all, I say—thank God. Because perfect is boring. And these two—together—they are unforgettable.