It’s widely acknowledged that most second marriages end in divorce – and while statistics predict that the majority of first marriages fail, the failure rate for first marriages is barely a majority with the percentage being just over half and the failure rate for second marriages being closer to two-thirds.
Though I ended up marrying Skyspook anyway, I was pretty gloomy about this statistic. Sure, he felt like an amazing match, we were extremely compatible in practically every facet of domestic and romantic life, and I felt understood by him in a way unrivaled by anyone else I have met (something I didn’t feel about my first husband and was completely honest about from the beginning; he seemed to have complaints and observations about me that didn’t match up with my self-concept or anything that I’d been told by friends or lovers before and seemed to hold a view of me inconsistent with others’ viewpoints and a view that was often internally inconsistent).
By all appearances, Skyspook was an ideal partner.
However, I’d felt extremely confident going into my first marriage, too, and we all know how that turned out.
Now that the dust has settled a bit, I’d like to point out one major bonus of this second marriage: Perspective.
Basically, I’m able to compare and contrast the two marriages and make decisions in a way that I think is healthier than the strategies I employed during my first marriage. Oftentimes, with my first husband, I found myself deeply troubled when he would express beliefs or perform actions that did not square with mine. This owes in part to the fact that I am highly suggestible and a natural broker of harmony, whereas my ex-husband is a great deal more self-contained and rigid in his behavior and attitudes, so when the two of us differed, I’d conclude that I was wrong and try to readjust my beliefs, even if they weren’t a particularly good fit. Over time, this repeated self-correction resulted in lowered self-esteem and continued stress, and one day, I woke up to find myself living a completely unsuitable life with no idea of how I’d gotten there.
I nearly fell into this trap early on in my relationship with Skyspook, especially easy to do because of the structure and trappings of power exchange. However, the last few months, I find myself increasingly amused by the differences between Skyspook and Ex-Husband, especially so when I have a third opinion or practice that differs from either of them.
And ultimately, I think having a better sense of perspective about these things bestows wonderful and pervasive benefits to me and my relationship. Even if Skyspook and I are facing longer odds of reaching the endgame with our marriage intact, I’m finding the opening and midgame infinitely more rewarding.
He’s a chance I’m willing to take.