This is how I married her:

I was standing on one of those red carpets so familiar to us all from awards ceremonies and premieres. It was eight p.m. and I was exhilarated by the pomp and occasion. She walked towards me, looking spectacular in Alexander McQueen. Reporters hollered and photographers flashed, but through this cacophony of film premiere hullabaloo I could see she was radiantly happy.

We knew getting married on the red carpet was tacky, but we didn’t care, it was all good publicity for the film.

“What did I say Akira, back in the deli, the day we met, when you said I watched too many movies?” I asked, while the credits rolled. She smacked my knee and beamed a smile, “You said: this could be the start of a good one. And you were right my darling.”

They’d added themes and other embellishments that weren’t in our story. But we were happy, because at its core was the story of a heartbroken Irish man who went to New York City: met a girl, who lost her father, but found a husband – anything can, and does happen in New York City.