I was the prototypical carefree bachelor ... and I had a ball. I had absolutely no plans on getting married. Coming from a single-parent where my father was a sperm donor and little more and my parents divorced when I was 10 - my mom never remarried despite having several opportunities - I didn't have the highest opinion of marriage.
And then I met her. A girl I worked with who pursued me. Young, cute, smokin' body, great cook, smart but kind of shy. All my friends were getting married so I gave in at the age of 30. Had a great run of 12 years until she came home from a business trip and told me she didn't love me anymore and wanted a divorce.
Two years of intense counseling did little. She wanted out.
Stupid me. I started dating right again after the divorce.
Stupid me. I met somebody who was totally different than anybody I'd ever known. Not my type, really, but shared my love for music and had a wicked sense of humor.
Call it a rebound, something I thought I was immune from.
Holy shit, was it a mistake. Six weeks into the marriage, I knew I'd really fucked up. Six years later, we finally faced reality and divorced.
Had lunch with a friend who was going through a divorce herself from a buddy of mine.
"I can't picture joining the whole dating scene again," she lamented.
"Nor can I. Why don't you just go out with me?"
"Are you serious?"
"Hell, yes. We've been friends for a long time, we seem to get along okay. Why not give it a shot?"
We just celebrated our 15th anniversary. I love her more now than I ever have. It hasn't been without its drama, which I won't go into. We've been through some shit together. But we've emerged still together.
I finally found it. Marriage #3.
And for those of you who criticize Trump for being married three times, **** you.

Best. Marriage. Ever.
Well, for us anyway.