Young Women Beware

When I married my current (and absent) husband, we were both recently divorced. My first marriage lasted only a year, produced no children or significant debt, and was shed fairly easily. My husband's first marriage lasted eleven years, produced two children, and was born out of the fabled status of "high school sweethearts." The breakup itself was nasty, the history that led to it even nastier. I was 22 when we wed, he 32.

I thought long and hard before agreeing to marry him, as I was very young and was not sure if I could handle the responsibility of existing children and the inevitable weirdness that goes along with having a wife-in-law. When I finally acquiesced, I was certain that I had thought of every contingency and was prepared for the journey to come. Ha ha.

Though the pitfalls I hadn't thought of are legion, by far the most difficult thing about being a second wife is... well, being second. And though we will be (presumably) celebrating our 17th anniversary this year, being second just never ends.

Young women beware: the things you now, in your haze of being-in-love, look forward to sharing with your husband-who-has-been-married-before, have been already shared by he and your wife-in-law. Your first pregnancy and first child? Ho-hum. Momentous and amazing for you, but not for him... he's seen it before and every little change your body and mind suffers, he'll be able to say something to the effect of, "Oh, yes, I remember that. You'll be fine in a couple of hours," or some such rot. The birthing process? He's an old pro! No one has to show him how to clamp the cord!! This particular miracle is old hat and maybe even - yes, I'm going to put it all out there for you - tedious to him. First steps, first tooth, first haircut, first day of school - the same. And don't think for a second that you've got some sexual trick up your sleeve that he hasn't seen before - whatever kink you can dredge up from the abyss of your mind, he's been there and done that. And it was was much better for him then than it ever will be with you because 1) it was his first time, 2) he was young, and 3) he's already memorialized it in his head as the be-all, end-all of sexual experience. You'll even get to deal with the darker side of being second, especially in the sexual arena - he has baggage to spare and those trunks of horror seem to open up and spill their poison at the most inopportune times, often without explanation or even a sense of context. And there you'll be, victim of some long-ago sexual power struggle that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with how you are allowed to relate to your husband. Your wife-in-law may live thousands of miles away from you, but don't think she isn't in bed with you and your husband every single night. She is. And he still wants her. Why? Because she was first. It doesn't matter how horrible their marriage was. It doesn't matter how badly they fucked each other over. He will always want her because she was first and all those memories revolve around the excitement, the fear, the thrill, the ecstasy of the first time.

Being second means that you're never sure who your husband is talking to, and find yourself reminding him, "hey, it's me you're talking to, remember? Remember, me, the sane one? The one who isn't out to screw you over and take your money? The one who doesn't use drugs and screw your best friend just because?? The one who's still here???"

If you have the blessing (and the curse) of being a step-mother, being second means that you never quite fit in as a parent. You won't have to sign permission slips - in fact, you aren't allowed to sign permission slips - and you won't be pressured to participate in the PTA. You won't be part of the major decisions regarding the children - despite the fact that those children may live under your roof - and you won't be able to dispute any amount of child support paid regadless of how often they're physically with you. You will, however, be blamed for any books that were read while at your house that were expressly forbidden at their mom's house (critical information which, strangely enough, wasn't passed on to you, the fifth-wheel-step-parent), for any bad habits or expressions suddenly demonstrated, for forgetting to bring a child's favorite pillow back with them from weekend visitation, and for "being inconsistent." You will be expected to drive the children to whatever activities they have planned without your input or permission. You will be expected to pick them up from friend's homes, school, daycare, church, or some hotel where their mom left them and forgot they were there. You will be expected to learn how to be a fair authority figure to children you didn't raise for the first ten (or however many) years of their lives, and to bite your tongue when the children you've come to love as your own are subjected to petty games played by their "natural" parents. You will be expected to mediate rifts between households, and you will be expected to help pay for field trips, movie passes, orthodontia, AP examinations, and college. The good (and somewhat surprising) news is that it will all be worth it... eventually.

True, all of this I considered - though not in the huge way it manifested in reality - and somewhat expected when I chose to marry again. What I didn't anticipate was the outright resentment I feel that I was not able to experience the man that was to watch him grow into the man that is. Perhaps the man that is would be different if I had been first: less bitter, less unsure of himself, less insensitive, less blaming, less deceitful. Perhaps not. The hard and cold truth is that I'll never know. I picked up the pieces of a broken life and I put it together the best way I could, considering that I didn't know the original configuration and the fact that some of the parts were missing. I trusted that the bitterness, the deceitfulness, the whining, and the self-pity would disperse along with the memories of the horrors of before. I honestly believed that my love would change everything, that everything that was broken would be healed by the force of my will alone. It didn't, obviously. Would I be writing this if it did?

I didn't get to know the young man, the one who was joyous and filled with the wonder of first love. I didn't get to experience five or six years kid-free and spontaneous, filled with friends and parties and romantic getaways. I wasn't able to share the triumphs of his younger years, or know him as an honest, faithful, giving, and trusting person. I wasn't allowed to enjoy the years of constant full-time employment and the benefits thereof. I married the man who gave away 66% of his paycheck to child and spousal support and allowed me to buy him dishes because he didn't have enough for the two of us to eat together. I married the man who had weekly telephonic screaming matches with my wife-in-law until I put my foot down and took over all communication between the households (much to my wife-in-law's chagrin). I married the man who - still! - struggles with the memories of being young and carefree and of the joys of living kid-free and spontaneous, and seeks out the experience whenever he can (and sometimes - don't be shocked!! - with the ex, who - don't be shocked!! - welcomes his attention despite the fact that I have treated her as family since Day One). I've continued to pick up the pieces through unemployment, constant out-of-state travel, car and motorcycle accidents, excessive drinking, serial irresponsibility, and now a job across the Pacific Ocean so he can "find himself" while I attempt (rather unsuccessfully) to work full-time, care single-handedly for a house, a yard, two younger children, two grown children, two large dogs, two tortoises, and two households' worth of bills while completing a bathroom remodel, motorcycle overhaul, and garbage disposal repair.

My consolation: I'm the first to stick around. I'm the first to do it for 17 years. Even his flippin' mother didn't put up with him for this long.

My conclusion and warning: Being second is a LOT of work. Being second is a LOT of heartbreak, some of which blindsided me and knocked me for a couple of really good loops. Beign second is a LOT of responsibility, because you have to take responsibility for things you aren't necessarily responsible for (like the children, unsubsidized student loans, your wife-in-law's bail, and your husband's penchant for talking to you like you haven't been here for the past 17 years).

I know you're wondering: Would I do it again if I could do it over?

Probably. I loved him awful. But if I'd known then what I know now, I sure as hell would have killed off the ex first.