Another wedding

Planning for wedding number two was about to commence. Matt proposed to me about three and a half years after we started dating. It made sense. I had to finalize my divorce. I also had two children.

Matt loved my kids, and me, but it was big step for both of us. He had never been married and wanted to make sure if he did marry me, it was for keeps. There were two children involved, not just us. As for me, the thought of getting married again and having it end up in divorce was more than I could stand.

So, one night while Matt and I were at out to dinner at a restaurant that I had grown up going to, Matt proposed. Ring in hand he asked me to marry him just before dessert was served.

My parents were so happy for my children and me. It was a dream that they had had for a long time. That their daughter and her children would find someone who would love them and take care of them; and not be a psycho.

Well, maybe the psycho was the main criteria, but hell, who cares, I was getting married and we were all happy.

So, the decision was made, we would be married after a year and a half engagement.

Can you guess who wanted to walk me down the aisle? And it wasn’t my dad.

Yup, it was Gary. He thought that it would be great to show people how we overcame our differences.

Jesus Christ, can you imagine? If I had agreed to that, I don’t think that anyone from my family would have attended the wedding, let alone me.

Needless to say, Gary did not walk me down the aisle. My very proud father did. I am also happy to announce that when I got to the church with my dad, I did not cry, blubber or sob in any way, shape or form.

I was actually confident that this was the right decision.

When the Reverend came to welcome me into the church and to see how I was doing, I did ask him if Matt had gotten there yet. Deep down I was so afraid that he wasn’t going to show up.

It was a foolish fear; he had gotten to the church with his Best Man over an hour early and had a glass of wine with the Reverend in the waiting area. We were both very nervous, but confident in our decision to get married.

It was a beautiful ceremony, with Shayne and Brittany in the wedding party.

Matt and I were so nervous it was ridiculous. Standing at the altar; our knees were shaking so badly, I was not sure who was going to fall down first, Matt or I.

Leave it to Brittany to break the ice.

There we were, all standing so regal at the altar, solemn and reflecting on our love; you could have heard a pin drop.

Out of the silence you could hear an angelic voice saying, “Mom, what is that you have on the heel of your shoe?” It was Brittany, and on my beautiful new shoes was a piece of fuzz from the carpet protruding from my spiked heel.

It was priceless. You could not have scripted that. Everyone laughed, the ice was broken, and the ceremony continued.

Out of the mouths of babes.

The reception was perfect. Matt paid for the entire affair, as my dad had paid for my first marriage. Come to think of it, we all paid dearly for that first wedding.

With Matt paying and planning the entire wedding without any input from me is something that bothers me now, years later. This is something that I would look back on and realize now, that I was still living without a voice or mind of my own if you will.

It never occurred to me to ask to be part of the wedding planning or preparations. Matt was paying for it so he decided everything. I never once disagreed or thought that I should or could have a say in any part of the planning.

But the reception was perfect and a good time was had by all.

After the reception we stopped off at another function where Matt’s bowling banquet was being held. His team had placed, so we went to collect his winnings to take on our honeymoon with us. We made our appearance at his parent’s house for the after wedding party, and then at my parent’s; and to kiss my children goodbye. They would not be coming with us on our honeymoon.

Then it was off to St. Martin for five days. It was so relaxing, and if it weren’t for the near sun poisoning that I got the second day, it would have been perfect. I didn’t want to believe anyone when they told me the sun was hotter there than it was in New Jersey. I always seem to learn the hard way.

I got so burned that I sent Matt off to the casino the second night there, hopefully to win us our future fortune, because I simply could not walk. My ears literally burned and peeled. That had never happened to me before, and never since. I looked ridiculous, but by the third day I was better; my skin was growing back at an alarming rate and I could actually walk.

We had such a good time, but I missed the kids more than I had anticipated, so much so that the one night when we called to talk to them, I cried so hard that Matt had to take the phone from me, I just couldn’t get my breath long enough to speak.

Our honeymoon was dull though, compared to my first one that is. I didn’t get strip searched or anything on this trip. No horror museums or ice storms for us. Just intimate dinners, days lying on the sun drenched beaches and time alone.

I even had sex with my husband, often, so that’s a step in the right direction; isn’t it?

Now, that’s a novel idea, isn’t it?