I love love.
That’s right. I love being in love. I love being loved. I love telling people that I’m in love with them. I love hearing it back. And I love watching love.
So it’s pretty convenient that I am attending a lot of weddings, again. I thought this phase of my life would end, but it’s just shifted. My divorced friends are starting to remarry, and it’s only slightly awkward when your 45-year-old sensible colleague marries a thirty-year-old woman who is just ten years older than his oldest kid.
Yeah. There’s that awkward trope of an older man with a much younger second wife. She’s in self-tanner and a tight white dress. He’s in a rented tux, looking just as goofy as his first wedding day.
Except now he has a kid at Northwestern. His hair is a little thinner and he’s a little chubbier.
But he’s happy. And that’s all that matters.
Hands down, second weddings are better than first weddings.
The divorce rate is higher, but the food is great.
(Lesson learned from the first time, I suppose.)
I have no advice for people who decide to get married for the first time or even the third time. I’ve heard people say that marriage is like a marathon, but those people are misinformed assholes. I’m a marathoner and a wife, and I can tell you that a marriage is nothing like a marathon. Anybody can train and get through a marathon by running or even walking; however, you can try and try and try and still fail at a marriage.
But I love love, remember?
I like the gritty determination of people who fall in love and are determined to make a go of it — first marriage, second or even third. That’s why I’m traveling for another second wedding, this weekend. In this case, the bride is older than the groom. That’s refreshing. On top of that, they are nice people. Shit is chill. And the food at the wedding will be great.
Call me sentimental, but this couple is in love and it’s great to watch. They are making a run at life. And I like their odds, so I’m in!
Here’s to love. Here’s to loving love. And here’s to a great wedding weekend!