'Even at the altar I knew I was marrying the wrong person'

49 per cent of divorcees said they were worried on their wedding day that their relationship was breaking down. Photo / Thinkstock

Opinion

This story originally appeared in June 2015.

As I walked up the stairs to the town hall on my special day, I thought of all the movies I'd watched where brides-to-be considered jilting their fiance at the altar. It always seemed so dramatic when depicted by Hollywood - a woman sobbing in the back of the church, with another lover on the sidelines, waiting to whisk her away. My scenario seemed mundane in comparison: I didn't have a spectacular reason to run, but I didn't have a spectacular reason to go through with it, either.

Straightening the circle of roses on my head, I thought back to our first date, when I'd known this man wasn't meant for me. That feeling never left me... even on the morning that I married him.

Now, six years later, I can see quite clearly that I shouldn't have gone through with it. Yet I'm not the only modern wife to let the wrong man put a ring on her finger. According to a new survey of more than 1,600 divorcees, 49 per cent admitted they were worried on their wedding day that their relationship would break down, and two thirds considered leaving their spouse-to-be at the altar. A sixth said they hoped their partner would change after the wedding, while others said they got married in the hope that it would "all work out" in the end.

I couldn't identify more with this statement. After the first time Rich (not his real name) kissed me, I hoped that next time I wouldn't want to pull away so quickly. After the first time we had sex, I hoped I wouldn't want to rush home so immediately. After the first time he met my parents, I hoped my mum wouldn't ask me what I saw in him, because I wouldn't be able to answer. After the first time I said no to his proposal, I hoped that he'd ask me again and that I'd want to say yes next time. And when he did ask me again, six months later, I hoped that my doubts would vanish by the time I walked down the aisle.

As a couple, we were a product of circumstance. Rich, who was 42 when we met, was the last single guy in his friendship group and had ticked the "looking for commitment" box on the dating site. I was a 27-year-old trapped in a 35-year-old's mindset. I'd been seeking a stable boyfriend since university, but only got a string of dates and rejection texts.

When I saw Rich's dating photo, my first reaction was that he wasn't good-looking enough for me. Yet when he sent me a message saying I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, I gave in to his invitation for dinner.

I remember describing our first date to a friend as "fine". I used words like "nice" and "kind" to describe him. If he hadn't asked me out again, I wouldn't have chased him, but when emails, texts and phone calls kept coming I kept answering them.

The problem was, I couldn't pinpoint anything that was wrong with him in particular. We never argued, right until the day we divorced. But I found that I never missed him, even when I eventually left him four years to the day we got married.

It terrifies me now that I might have stayed in that relationship forever, as I really had no intention to leave. Then, one day, a work colleague announced her engagement and, to my amazement, I just started sobbing. I was hit by a wave of sadness as I realised that I'd never feel that sense of excitement, and that I'd rather go to her wedding alone than sit next to Rich and be reminded of my compromise. That evening I went home and told him I was leaving him.

I still have nightmares where he locks himself in the bathroom and cries. I was shocked that he was so shocked, because I always thought at the back of my mind that he knew my heart wasn't in it. I thought on some level that we'd both decided to settle and had an unspoken agreement, but he was truly devastated. When we were filling in our divorce paper and had to write the reason, I vaguely considered saying I'd been unfaithful, because it sounded more justifiable than the truth - I just didn't feel it.

I'm now single and, although I feel lonely at times, I can't say I feel any lonelier than when I was in the wrong relationship. At least now I can cling to a possibility that one day I might not always feel this way. My parents only told me after my divorce was finalised that they had considered jilting me at the altar, by not coming to my wedding, because they knew I was making the wrong decision. I don't blame them for not stopping me. I know how hard it can be to voice your doubts to those closest to you. I have a wedding ring hidden in my knicker drawer to prove it.