I was the first wife.

John and I dated for only six months before he popped the question. Just a few months before we began dating, my previous boyfriend of five years, Tayloe, and I had broken up. My relationship with John was a rebound, and it should have stayed just that. Instead, at age 21, I walked down the aisle the same year Princess Diana and Prince Charles married, wearing my mothers satin wedding dress with a long train trailing behind me.

Days later, we packed up a U-Haul and drove from Mississippi to Montana to finish our college education.

During our first Christmas together, John bought himself a new pair of downhill skis. He presented his old pair to me with a big bow tied around them. I excused myself and fled to the bathroom to cry. Not only was his re-gifting hurtful, but I still missed my old boyfriend and the way we had given each other thoughtful gifts and spent the holidays with either his family or mine. That was the first sign that our marriage was not a good one.