The Day I Went to Get Divorced Dressed as a Bride

The day I went to get divorced, dressed as a bride.

When my husband told me he wanted a divorce, I opened the wardrobe and pulled out my wedding dress.

What are you doing? he asked, sounding alarmed.

Im going to wear this to court, I replied, shaking out the dress until the dust fell free.

Are you mad? You cant turn up for a divorce dressed as a bride!

Of course I can. And youll put on your wedding suit. If you could vow eternal love in that get-up, you can break your promise in the same one.

I watched him search for words, but he couldnt find a single decent reason. Twenty minutes later, I heard him grumbling at the bottom of the wardrobe, hunting for his suit.

When we arrived at the courthouse in Manchester, the security guard just froze. One woman shouted, Congratulations! before her friend nudged her and whispered, Dont be dafttheyre getting divorced!

The judge nearly toppled out of his chair when he saw us: me in full white dress, veil and all, and my soon-to-be ex in his dinner jacket, bow tie gleaming and shoes polished to a shine.

Madam, the judge began, trying not to laugh, may I ask why youre dressed as a bride?

Because, Your Honour, I explained with as much dignity as I could gather, this man promised me til death do us part, looking just like this. Since death hasnt split us up, but he wants to break the contract, I thought he should do it seeing me exactly as I was when he made those vowsand told those fibs.

My husband glanced at me, eyes brimming with tears.
I never lied to you, he said quietly. I truly loved you that day.

And now? I managed to ask, though my voice faltered.

The judge cleared his throat.
Do you know what? Im granting you half an hours break. Go out, take a walk, talk it over. If you come back still wearing those outfits and still sure about this, well carry on. But I have a feeling that two people who show up like this have got a bit more to talk about.

We stepped into the corridor. He adjusted my veil where it had gone wonky.

You look lovely, he said. Just like you did that day.

You dont look half bad yourself, I admitted. Even if you are an idiot.

We stood there, dressed for a wedding, in the middle of the courthouse, having not the faintest clue what to do next.

What if he suggested hesitantly, instead of getting divorced, we found ourselves a piece of wedding cake and remembered why we got married?

Perhaps thats what real love isdressing up for divorce as you did for your own wedding. Or maybe, were just two hopelessly dramatic fools who never learned how to do anything halfway.