‘…As the man is the head, she is the crown…she was not made out of his head to dominate, or be over him, or out of his feet to be under him, but out of his side to be equal with him, beneath his arm to be protected by him, and near to his heart to be loved.’

Whore. Slut. Cunt. Bitch. Fat. Ugly. Pig. Slag.
Yep, that was me. All of the above, and more of course.
Equal with him, protected by him, near his heart to be loved. That was also me, or more supposed to be, but I never was.
Standing in front of him that day, saying those vows, looking at his creased up face as he cried and dribbled his way through, I knew I was doing the wrong thing. He’d already broken those vows, what was to say now I was his wife he’d never break them again?
You’re making a mistake Danielle, run. Run now! No one will mind when you tell them why. All these people that love and care about you, the ones that have flown hundreds of miles across the Atlantic, spent thousands to come and watch you right now as you say ‘I Do.’
Run? Now…?
He splutters the last line of his vows, looks at me and finishes, adding ‘Princess’ as his final word. Ahhhhh, coo the onlookers.

Whore. Smack. Cunt. Slap. Slag. Crack.

‘…guard well this your bride who now commits herself into your keeping, and strive so to live in the Lord that no word or deed of yours shall cloud her brow with grief, or dim her eyes with tears.’