Marrying Off My Daughter - A Divorced Dad's Perspective

Marrying off your daughter to a stranger can be the most exhilarating and exasperating experience, especially if you're divorced from her mother—your ex!  My story is a simple one and true to the times of this era.  The wedding consisted of three sets of parents, me and my second wife, my ex-wife and her new spouse and, the groom’s parents who have actually had the stamina to be married for 24 years.  When people ask me how long I have been married to my second wife, I always say twenty-three years even though it is only ten.  Why you ask?  It is easier for me to add both of my marriages together to achieve my ideal number; a number I will remember.   I was married for thirteen years to my first wife, and ten to my second; therefore, I have been wearing the ball and chain for quite some time. 

            I first met Alan, my son-in-law to be at the tuxedo rental shop.  I was there picking up my tux and shoes for the wedding and still could not figure out why my wife spent over eight-hundred and fifty dollars on her dress when I would be forced to wear a tux and shoes that numerous bodies had been inside, however, I was not allowed to mention this more than once. 

            Three young men came in and spoke to the unsmiling clerk behind the counter and stated they were there to pick up their monkey suits for the Warren wedding.  I looked at all three of them and decided which one I wanted to be my son-in-law and to my dismay, it was not him.  My son-in-law was the tall, lanky one with reddish, spiked hair and a small goatee that gave me pause as I thought about what my grandchildren would look like.  He was also very hung-over from his bachelor party the night before.   I introduced myself and he nervously grabbed his tux and friends and the entourage disappeared to the back room where I assumed they had a plan to stay there until I had left.  I had assumed correctly. 

            My next stop was the wedding hall where I was expected to pay an enormous sum of money to feed and intoxicate many people.  The ever-pleasing, smiling office manager, Stacy, asked me if I would like to see the wedding room.  Once inside, I looked around and informed Stacy that there was something wrong right away.  She inquired what that might be and I told her I did not see a broom closet as there would be many “witches” attending the wedding, meaning my ex and all my ex-in-laws.  Stacy did not laugh at my humor but I chuckled to myself because I know I am damn funny if nothing else.

            The day of the wedding, my daughter Rachel decided to have me and her mother, my ex-wife, walk her down the aisle.  I was displeased at first but I was forced to agree that it was Rachel’s wedding and not mine, even though I paid for everything.  That was another dilemma; I did have to pay for everything.   I did not plan the wedding, get to pick out the wedding chapel, the wedding dress, the menu or even the groom and, it seemed that my ex-wife nor the groom’s parents seemed to have any money.  I was beginning to feel set up especially when the smiling Stacy followed me around everywhere I went, probably wondering if I had another credit card that had not been maxed out.

            Walking your daughter down the aisle towards what you perceive to be is the wrong guy is a horrible feeling.  I looked over at her face and she was beaming and up ahead my son-in-law to be was beaming.  I smiled brightly for the photographer and found myself thinking I could pull Rachel out of here and bring her back to Taos, New Mexico and find her a real man.  My wife must have read my mind because I received some disturbing looks from her as the thought it is not your wedding played in my mind like an old Beatle lyric.

            The ceremony was not what I had wanted either.  I wanted a priest and I got Reverend Puff.  Reverend Puff’s answering machine holds a greeting from his dogs.  This should have been a red flag, but it was not my wedding I was reminded yet again.   The Revered Puff performed what started out to be a nice service until he went into his sermon.  He compared my daughter’s wedding to the ritual that the Queen of England held at Princess Diana’s funeral.  He went on to say the funeral was a ritual because the Queen disliked Diana.  What did this have to do with my daughter’s wedding?  Again I held my tongue as my wife squeezed my hand, tears flowing down her face.   She was crying for joy.  If I could have mustered up a tear or two they would not have been tears of joy.

            The reception following went well and no fistfights ensued as I had expected.  People drank and drank and Stacy continued to ask me if I was pleased with everything.  I always nodded approvingly because my wife’s stare was embedded into the back of my head by now.  I tried to make contact with my new son-in-law Alan.   I wanted to give him the old “you better treat her right speech,” but no one seemed to let me get that close.   I also wanted to hug and kiss my daughter before she left, but she was swept out to the limousine I paid for and sped off to the Sheraton for a night of...well I didn’t want to think about that.

            After handshakes and hugs from all around, I found my other daughter Julie peering up at me.  I have always considered Julie to be the successful daughter.  My wife accuses me of only thinking this because Julie attends a Catholic College.  I had just given Rachel to a man I did not know and there stood Julie asking me for a Vera Wang wedding dress and a London honeymoon.

            I remember someone slapping my face and I was pulled up from the floor.  I realized I didn’t think I could go through another one of these things and like any good Dad, offered Julie CASH, if she would reconsider.  I also mentioned that becoming a Nun might be a good choice.

            Rachel and her new husband called me after their honeymoon to thank me and let me know how happy they were.  Even though I am a little poorer, I am glad she is happy.  I also received an email from Julie indicating that her usher at the wedding was “fine” and she planned to meet him again for dinner “real soon.” 

            That night I dreamed of Vera Wang and London and throughout the restless night I think I finally realized that I was no longer responsible for Rachel, which brought a smile to my face until my wife mentioned Bill Cosby’s old saying that you will “always be responsible for your children until you die, then you get to rest.”  I just hope my new son-in-law keeps his job; I don’t need another porter at my car dealership.