My fiancé and I are in our mid-50s. This is the second marriage for both of us, and god willing, our last. My expectations are very different this time around. My focus isn't on how things will look in the pursuit of perfection but rather on the meaning of the celebration.
With the husband I'd called the man of my dreams, I shrunk, folded up inside myself, becoming skittish and fearful. And so my 20s consisted of a happy divorce and a sad divorce, a gay husband and a straight one.
Regardless of the reasons, the numbers are clear. Second marriages are more likely to fail than first unions. But, when it comes to relationships, I don't care about statistics. I care about individual marriages.