So the Better Half and I got married this past weekend. Again. To each other. Without any interruption in our relationship in the intervening years.
The first time was almost exactly eight years before the second time. (Many guests at our recent celebration joked that they will pencil in another one eight years from now.) It looked pretty much how one would expect a wedding to look. We wore tuxes. (I now regret the choice to go with tails.) We had it in a church (the same one both times, actually) and exchanged vows in front of a big crowd of loved ones and well-wishers. We had rings made (the same ones we wore this time). We had a reception and cake. Etc.
Indeed, I have considered myself married since then. We meant the vows we spoke then and have since lived the best life together that we could build. If not for the newly-granted legal protections, we would have seen no need for a second event at all.