David Baxter PhD
Late Founder
When your ex says 'I do' to someone else
by SARAH HAMPSON, Globe and Mail
December 4, 2008
"I put my hand on his back, and I said, 'If it makes you feel any better, I don't plan on getting remarried.'"
My friend was discussing a dream about her ex.
"I didn't want him to feel bad," she explained to me. In her dream, her ex was apologizing for some of his long-term behavioural issues. But that didn't make her want a reconciliation. She just wanted to give him something - her vow of non-remarriage - to acknowledge their bond.
How would she feel if he remarried?
"Glad," she replied. "I was the one who said we were through. It would make me happy that he had found someone to love." His remarriage might also help assuage some of her guilt, she added.
We were on our Saturday walk in a Toronto ravine, the perfect place for deep, dark confessions, and it occurred to me how few people discuss the feelings that remarriage elicits.
Sure, there are movies about remarriage - in the recently released Four Christmases, a couple has to visit the new families of each of their divorced parents - but they're mostly romantic comedies.
Not that hope and happiness aren't involved. Why else would nearly half of divorced Canadians remarry? Even the failure rate - in Canada, 20 per cent of second marriages end before the eight-year mark, according to the most recent Statistics Canada figures - doesn't seem to be a deterrent.
But there are often more complex emotions, for both the ex getting remarried and his or her former spouse.
The circumstance of a remarriage can affect how a former spouse reacts. If it comes immediately on the heels of divorce, it can be a shock.
My ex-husband remarried shortly after our split to a woman he had known for a few months. I felt as though his wives were just replaceable parts - there had been one before me, too - and it made our own long marriage seem meaningless. And needless to say, if a spouse leaves the marriage to marry someone they've been having an affair with, the partner left behind is not going to easily summon generous wishes for their continued happiness.
But even when some time has passed since divorce, news of an ex-spouse's remarriage can be hard to handle. Often, there can be a strange sense of abandonment: You may not want to be married to her any more, but somehow, when she is still single, even when she is dating, you feel some connection. She was your wife, a claim no one else can make - until now. The conjugal bond may be broken, but the shadow of it is still there.
Children complicate the emotions, of course.
Your newly remarried ex will now have the mom-and-dad white-picket-fence family, while you may have only yourself and your best intentions.
And trepidation about being replaced as a parent is understandable. Numerous studies show that new unions reduce the contact between children and non-resident fathers.
Separated mothers who remarry can spoil the father-child bond by encouraging a stepfather to usurp the role. And the earlier that separated fathers enter a new union, the less frequently they see their children later on. The new family unit takes over, unless a well-established pattern of visits exists between the father and his children, a recent Statistics Canada report stated.
There should be rules on remarriage etiquette. For example, the ex who is remarrying should tell his ex-spouse first, not the children. When my ex told our children he was getting married again, they were unsure how to tell me, which put them in an awkward position. I only found out when his fianc?e called me up to tell me. "Oh, well, that's good," I said. "He likes to be married." Which was not the most gracious thing to say, but the best I could muster. When I told the children that I knew and was supportive of his decision, they visibly relaxed.
It would be so much better if we could all be adults about the complex reconfiguration of relationships. Hey, I have an idea that would break the ice for a new spirit of co-operation among exes and new spouses: Why not ask the ex-husband to give away his ex to her new husband? That way, the men would have a chance to bond over their love (one old, one new) for the woman. The ex could walk her up the aisle and as he takes her arm off his to join her with her new man, he could lean in, and whisper, "Listen, she is terrific, really, but let me just warn you. Never give her a toaster for Christmas. Not romantic enough."
It's not just the left-behind exes who have to confront new emotions. In remarriage, the feelings of the bride and groom are often different than in their previous wedding ceremonies.
Sometimes they are happier than ever before, because they feel they have found their true soulmate after failing in earlier attempts.
Earlier this year, Chris Evert, the former U.S. tennis champion, married Greg Norman, the golf legend. It was her third marriage, his second. She had been married and divorced twice before: to British tennis player John Lloyd and to former downhill-ski champion Andy Mill. (She has done a triathlon of husbands, come to think of it.) Their wedding ceremony reflected their sense of virginal joy. It could have been for a blushing 32-year-old bride, not a 53-year-old mother of three teenaged boys. (It was also a major triumph of hope over experience, which in itself calls for celebration.) Ms. Evert wore a strapless Nina Ricci gown. "I asked Greg if he wanted me to wear an off-white evening gown, and he [said] no," she explained in a Vogue magazine feature story. "He wanted me to wear a wedding dress."
But some choose to make a remarriage ceremony a low-key affair. Maybe they feel a little bit of what Joe Flaherty, the SCTV veteran and renowned comedian, once explained as his hesitation over remarriage. "Somewhere in the back of my head is [the idea] that you can't get married again," said the divorced father of two children. Why is that? I asked. "Because you had your chance at it," he replied with a weak sort of smile.
One couple I know acknowledged their divorce history by choosing a muted church ceremony.
They wanted the religious setting, but the bride didn't want to walk down the aisle. It would have felt a little embarrassing, she said.
Her friends and family gathered in the pews, and she and her fianc? simply walked out of a door near the altar, hand in hand, to exchange their vows.
Their grown children from previous marriages stood with them.
There was no triumphant organ music. In her beautiful and simple golden-hued dress, the bride turned to the congregation and simply thanked everyone for coming.
by SARAH HAMPSON, Globe and Mail
December 4, 2008
"I put my hand on his back, and I said, 'If it makes you feel any better, I don't plan on getting remarried.'"
My friend was discussing a dream about her ex.
"I didn't want him to feel bad," she explained to me. In her dream, her ex was apologizing for some of his long-term behavioural issues. But that didn't make her want a reconciliation. She just wanted to give him something - her vow of non-remarriage - to acknowledge their bond.
How would she feel if he remarried?
"Glad," she replied. "I was the one who said we were through. It would make me happy that he had found someone to love." His remarriage might also help assuage some of her guilt, she added.
We were on our Saturday walk in a Toronto ravine, the perfect place for deep, dark confessions, and it occurred to me how few people discuss the feelings that remarriage elicits.
Sure, there are movies about remarriage - in the recently released Four Christmases, a couple has to visit the new families of each of their divorced parents - but they're mostly romantic comedies.
Not that hope and happiness aren't involved. Why else would nearly half of divorced Canadians remarry? Even the failure rate - in Canada, 20 per cent of second marriages end before the eight-year mark, according to the most recent Statistics Canada figures - doesn't seem to be a deterrent.
But there are often more complex emotions, for both the ex getting remarried and his or her former spouse.
The circumstance of a remarriage can affect how a former spouse reacts. If it comes immediately on the heels of divorce, it can be a shock.
My ex-husband remarried shortly after our split to a woman he had known for a few months. I felt as though his wives were just replaceable parts - there had been one before me, too - and it made our own long marriage seem meaningless. And needless to say, if a spouse leaves the marriage to marry someone they've been having an affair with, the partner left behind is not going to easily summon generous wishes for their continued happiness.
But even when some time has passed since divorce, news of an ex-spouse's remarriage can be hard to handle. Often, there can be a strange sense of abandonment: You may not want to be married to her any more, but somehow, when she is still single, even when she is dating, you feel some connection. She was your wife, a claim no one else can make - until now. The conjugal bond may be broken, but the shadow of it is still there.
Children complicate the emotions, of course.
Your newly remarried ex will now have the mom-and-dad white-picket-fence family, while you may have only yourself and your best intentions.
And trepidation about being replaced as a parent is understandable. Numerous studies show that new unions reduce the contact between children and non-resident fathers.
Separated mothers who remarry can spoil the father-child bond by encouraging a stepfather to usurp the role. And the earlier that separated fathers enter a new union, the less frequently they see their children later on. The new family unit takes over, unless a well-established pattern of visits exists between the father and his children, a recent Statistics Canada report stated.
There should be rules on remarriage etiquette. For example, the ex who is remarrying should tell his ex-spouse first, not the children. When my ex told our children he was getting married again, they were unsure how to tell me, which put them in an awkward position. I only found out when his fianc?e called me up to tell me. "Oh, well, that's good," I said. "He likes to be married." Which was not the most gracious thing to say, but the best I could muster. When I told the children that I knew and was supportive of his decision, they visibly relaxed.
It would be so much better if we could all be adults about the complex reconfiguration of relationships. Hey, I have an idea that would break the ice for a new spirit of co-operation among exes and new spouses: Why not ask the ex-husband to give away his ex to her new husband? That way, the men would have a chance to bond over their love (one old, one new) for the woman. The ex could walk her up the aisle and as he takes her arm off his to join her with her new man, he could lean in, and whisper, "Listen, she is terrific, really, but let me just warn you. Never give her a toaster for Christmas. Not romantic enough."
It's not just the left-behind exes who have to confront new emotions. In remarriage, the feelings of the bride and groom are often different than in their previous wedding ceremonies.
Sometimes they are happier than ever before, because they feel they have found their true soulmate after failing in earlier attempts.
Earlier this year, Chris Evert, the former U.S. tennis champion, married Greg Norman, the golf legend. It was her third marriage, his second. She had been married and divorced twice before: to British tennis player John Lloyd and to former downhill-ski champion Andy Mill. (She has done a triathlon of husbands, come to think of it.) Their wedding ceremony reflected their sense of virginal joy. It could have been for a blushing 32-year-old bride, not a 53-year-old mother of three teenaged boys. (It was also a major triumph of hope over experience, which in itself calls for celebration.) Ms. Evert wore a strapless Nina Ricci gown. "I asked Greg if he wanted me to wear an off-white evening gown, and he [said] no," she explained in a Vogue magazine feature story. "He wanted me to wear a wedding dress."
But some choose to make a remarriage ceremony a low-key affair. Maybe they feel a little bit of what Joe Flaherty, the SCTV veteran and renowned comedian, once explained as his hesitation over remarriage. "Somewhere in the back of my head is [the idea] that you can't get married again," said the divorced father of two children. Why is that? I asked. "Because you had your chance at it," he replied with a weak sort of smile.
One couple I know acknowledged their divorce history by choosing a muted church ceremony.
They wanted the religious setting, but the bride didn't want to walk down the aisle. It would have felt a little embarrassing, she said.
Her friends and family gathered in the pews, and she and her fianc? simply walked out of a door near the altar, hand in hand, to exchange their vows.
Their grown children from previous marriages stood with them.
There was no triumphant organ music. In her beautiful and simple golden-hued dress, the bride turned to the congregation and simply thanked everyone for coming.
