by C McNamara

Created on: April 25, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

I walked down the isle to a moving Celtic instrumental and gazed into my husband-to-be's blue eyes that were sparkling with tears. One thing I had always loved about him was that he wasn't afraid to show his emotions.

The ceremony went beautifully; my brother played another moving piece - a guitar solo that he wrote especially for his big sister's special day. As a married couple we exited the Chapel on the soft notes of Vivaldi, entered the reception to the raw 'Who Let the Dogs Out' and danced our previously composed but ineptly executed bridal waltz to Bobby Darin's 'More'.

It was a musical feast, crossing all genres and tastes, moving and intimate to ridiculously funny. Music is a large part of my life and I had composed the soundtrack to the best day of my life with gusto! I received many compliments throughout the day, I had success.

And then halfway through the dancing, which featured, amongst so many dance song contenders, ABBA, Tom Jones, Pink and Fat Boy Slim, the best man announced a surprise. The other two groomsmen cheekily wheeled in a karaoke machine and I thought 'Oh. My. GOD!'

I had never been a big fan of karaoke; it was more my husband's forte. I glanced at my fresh new husband sitting by my side, noting his innocent but gleeful expression at the possibility of stunning the crowd with one of his crooning hits of the karaoke pub.

I quickly ordered another white wine and settled back to try to enjoy whatever the next phase of the reception might bring. Afterall, I had had the say on the rest of the day's music, and marriage, afterall, is about compromise. The couple of wines already under my corset may have helped facilitate this gracious frame of mind.

He sauntered to the stage, his suit sitting perfectly on his slim but muscular frame, his open necked shirt and ruffled hair creating a casual look. He grabbed the MC's microphone with confident zest. His slightly flushed cheeks were the only aspect to his appearance that betrayed (to me, at least) that this soon to be sung song may not quite come off as he had practiced before, so many many many times. What would it be, I wondered - Frank, Dean, Nat or Bobby? Michael Buble?

He looked over to me just seconds before the music started and said 'this little ditty goes out to my beautiful wife, Mrs McMahon'. I gave him an encouraging and accepting sort of smile, swallowed a large mouthful of wine and then the music started.

Well! Move over Frank. Goodbye Dean and Hello Mr McMahon! I opened my eyes in wonder as he sang Nat King Cole's LOVE, Mr McMahon style, grooving his way around the tables like a paid star and swinging his hips in slightly embarrassing Elvis style. His confidence and masculinity had never been expressed with such abandon. This was high night, afterall. He eventually made his way to my side as he sang the last notes "Love, was made for you and me........."

And then I fell in love all over again!

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