Divorced Before 30

On the evening of May 1, 2007, I found myself at a choral rehearsal of sorts. The “choir” included most of the Picnic League group, minus lovebirds Chris and Corri, who were getting married later that week. They were celebrating with a small, private ceremony on Thursday and a big reception on Saturday. Josh and his buddies decided that we should do something special for the reception, so Keith and Karen—the musical couple among us—helped us whip up a little arrangement.

Josh was standing up for Chris, so we were invited to attend the ceremony, which was being held at the couple’s favorite restaurant in a small town near Stillwater. Josh and I shared their love of all things food, and as I’d gotten to know them better over the past few months, I’d had a blast joining them for elaborate cooking “playdates” and hole-in-the-wall outings involving cheese-filled burgers.

On Thursday, Chris decided to ride with us to the ceremony, and I ended up having a drink with him at my apartment while we waited for Josh. It’s a rare treat to spend time with someone on their wedding day. Nothing could be more monumental than the day you say “I do,” and yet Chris was calmly sipping wine in my living room just a couple hours before the ceremony. We somehow got to talking about my marriage, which was actually a huge relief.

It was the first time I’d talked about my divorce with any of Josh’s friends, and as ugly as it seemed to me, it felt good to share it. We talked about marriage in general—a natural topic, given the occasion—and from where I sat, he and Corri seemed like a natural fit. I told him that the appeal of marriage wasn’t ruined on me entirely, but I did have a lot of questions about what it all meant—the promises, the trust, the inherent risk.

Josh and I delivered the groom on time, and he exchanged vows with lovely Corri in a quiet garden behind the restaurant. The twenty or so wedding guests joined the happy couple for a chartered trolley ride around historic Stillwater to take wedding photos, and the bride actually asked the driver stop at a liquor store so she could buy beer in her wedding dress. Back at the restaurant, we were treated to an amazing rhythm of course after course of food and wine, food and wine, food and wine. Each guest seated around the long table gave a personal toast to the bride and groom—I referenced Stevie Wonder—and Chris and Corri said a few words about each of the guests.

When Corri got to me, she hinted that Josh and I might not be far behind them, and it was the first time it occurred to me that anyone would wish that for me, for us. I’d spent so much time beating myself up about my divorce that I assumed everyone shared my belief that I might not deserve a second shot. Clearly, I was probably the only one who’d been thinking that, but hearing Corri’s sincere words spoken aloud was the best gift I’d received in a long time. I was, of course, a sniffling mess by the end of the toasts, but I was in good company. All in all, it was an amazing evening and as perfect a wedding as I’d ever seen.