We’d been together for six years and romance doesn’t last for ever, does it?
If you invite me to your wedding or hen party, you’ll handle me in one of three ways. One: you brief everyone, so there’s no chance they’ll ask about my relationship status. Two: you shoot me a sympathetic glance when something romantic happens and tell me how tired you are of wedding planning. Three: you don’t acknowledge my divorce at all, and treat me exactly the same as every other guest. The third is my favourite. The world already gives me ample reminders that I am different from most people my age.
I was married at 23, divorced by 25. Some of you were at the wedding and have no doubt revisited that day, searching for clues that the marriage was doomed. It turns out there were none; everything was wrong from the start, but we were all too young to notice, or too polite to point it out.
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