The mystery of two

Everything is different the second time. That second ice cream. The second joint. Its a design to inhibit greed, I think. I’m now on to my second Robert who one morning, about a month ago, asked, “Want to get married? Yeah I do. Silently I felt happy, but it was like winning the lottery the second time, I think, how excited can you get? Where’s the ring? You don’t need a ring, they just get lost. We looked at our bare fingers.

Next I thought he would renege. I thought I better announce our news, just to see if he was serious. We got a mixed reaction from the clan. My niece gave me a beautiful card saying congratulations, we are so happy for you. My daughter talked proudly about how this would be the wedding that would rival all weddings. My son grunted from his special hotel suite up the coast. My stepdaughter’s mouth was so wide I thought she was about to sing an aria. My step son-in-law gave us a big hug and a kiss, sweet child. My stepson was told in secret and like James Bond has destroyed the evidence and all knowledge of it. Bob’s sister and her family were really happy and looking forward to the big day, after all five girls in the bridal party would be fantastic.

Next I moved on to the wider community. Just casually, while discussing the merits of going lighter. Oh, by the way, we’re getting married. You are, where’s the ring? Don’t you know the second time you don’t get a ring? Really my sister did. Does she still have the first one? Anyway that’s nice news. Just make sure you get the ring. Snip, snip. So how to continue spreading the news without the ring. I would just start saying we didn’t want any fuss, nothing as pretentious as diamonds, just a simple country wedding where we would give each other nice new watches, to mark our time together.

My daughter was horrified. You are so weird, don’t you realise that this wedding must at least rival the one before. She was talking about Bob’s first wife who got married a year ago to some millionaire property developer, who had shares in an African diamond mine, I think.

With your first marriage you only have to contend with your mother, your siblings, his mother and his siblings. The second time you have a whole cast, each wanting input into this auspicious day.

Speaking of auspicious. How do you choose a day. I wanted a winter theme. I’m not sure what I was thinking in a sub tropical climate. It had to be different from the first, a summer wedding, where the first Robert nearly fainted in the heat, or was it the heat? The first time you just pick a nice Sunday in a nice Summer month. The second time you’re concerned that the first day was a bad day and Venus must have been in opposition with Uranus. Right how to find the best day? Google, of course. I typed in my chosen date and for five bucks someone would tell me if this was my best day.

Still there’s plenty of time to choose the date. No! said my daughter you don’t understand people spend a whole year planning the wedding. This was to be confirmed by the dressmaker on the cable show. How could this work when I needed to lose weight?

The first time I got married I was 64 kilos. I’m now 80. Today is the start of D (diet) day. I couldn’t think of anything worse than a whole bunch of really nice professional photos getting close ups of my second chin, second stomach etc. There’s also the honeymoon photos. At least there are no expectations of a bikini or sexy lingerie and no pressure to consummate.

But, the best thing about doing it the second time, you’re getting a second chance to share your life with someone you love, forever.

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