It never felt quite right to be making a living writing for wedding magazines. After all, I was a divorced single mom, whose own happily-ever-after had taken quite a detour. But it was a good job, so I tried not to think too deeply about the ironies.
The Perfect Dress. The Perfect Cake. The Perfect Day. I did have to grit my teeth over the constant repetition of that adjective. I knew from experience how a painstakingly planned wedding day can become a painful memory. My parents spent a substantial amount on my wedding, but even if they’d spent ten or a hundred times more, it wouldn’t have helped the outcome. My fiance and I had been together for four years when we made it official; looking back, I clearly see the problems we chose to ignore, the arguments that left us raw. But I convinced myself that these were proof of our passionate attachment – besides, everyone kept saying it was time. So we tied the knot. The photographs are gorgeous. We got the wedding right, but not the marriage.
