My ex-husband is re-tying the knot this Saturday and I feel…happy? Yes, I really do. I am at a point in my life where nothing seems to phase me, and if his happiness is riding on another marriage, I say jump on the matrimonial train. As for me, I am opting to take the bus that stops every 3 or 4 miles just so I can get out and look both ways before I decide that, yes, I am heading in the right direction.

When Dylan and I got married, it was what most would call a shot-gun wedding, except no one in our family could afford an actual shot-gun. I am certain we could have bought one from an arms dealer just East of our neighborhood, considering we live in Miami, but we were just trying to get along for 3 consecutive days, without weapons involved. Could you imagine the outcome then? Dylan and I had the kind of relationship that could have been featured on a “Worst Case Scenario” board game. We brought out the worst in each other and I recall him locking me in my own closet once just “until I settled down.”

I don’t even blame him for this; I probably deserved it.

I remember one night he came home late from work reeking of chewing tobacco and beer, I had to re-heat his dinner. Upon his informing me that it just didn’t taste as good because it was re-heated and could I please just time his dinners a little more appropriately, I flipped the entire table over. On him. I told him to see how it tasted when his body heat could do the warming and threw in an insult comparing him to his useless father for good measure.

I was that wild.

When I think back to all of our fond memories, I can truly chalk it up to our being young… and stupid. Who knows anything at the age of 20, much less enough to play house with someone else? Apparently I thought I had mastered the skill of homemaker and wanted to test out the new apron, whisk, and cheese grater we were given by Dylan’s mother. The last time I used an apron was when, at the tender age of 7, I was given an E-Z bake oven, and my mother warned me not to get the chemical powdered brownie mix on my Christmas clothes. As for a whisk, I don’t beat anything. Not in the kitchen at least, and certainly not eggs. Isn’t that what individuals would typically use a whisk for? Please, enlighten me.

I love a cheese grater just as much as the next person, but really, wouldn’t a fork do the trick?

I don’t know where exactly we went wrong, but I do know that 6 months later, divorce court called and its ring was louder than the wedding bells.

We both answered and couldn’t talk fast enough.

The best thing I got out of being with Dylan was Abbi. And what’s even better is that she has taught me the art of tolerance. Every time she does something that so closely resembles him, I can’t walk away from her. She has so many of his mannerisms; she becomes a mope to the extent of being nicknamed Eeyore. She has shown me that although it didn’t work out with me and her dad, Abbi and I are stuck together forever. With this very permanent piece of information, I have learned to not so much adore, but accept her tiny flaws that are definitely overshadowed by her wittiness and quick sense of humor. Those two things were inherited from me, undoubtedly. Just ask anyone.

This Saturday, as Dylan stands before whoever it is that is making him repeat those vows I remember I had such a hard time uttering (my track record speaks for itself right?), I really do wish him well. I know that his fiance’, Amy, is going to do a stand up job. She has lasted longer than I ever did- that’s saying something right? She is great with Abbi, and I imagine she doesn’t flip tables, throw frozen water bottles aimed at foreheads (another time, please), or find herself deservingly being locked in closets. I really didn’t mind being in there, for the record. I have a pretty fabulous wardrobe.

As for myself, I am settled. I am delirious, knowing that I have found happiness within myself, and the MAN I am with is admittedly happier with himself because he found me. The past few months have been a whirlwind of ups and downs, but I am determined to surround myself with positivity and optimism. Who knows if I will ever marry again.

I don’t care to speculate. What I do know is that I will be making one hell of a “don’t” list, including but not limited to, whisks, graters, sifters, and rolling pins. There is so much more to what I have in my life right now that those things can be disregarded. This time, I know what I want and it is so very lose to what I already have.

I might just have to hang my bus pass up. Until then, here’s my stop.