I have a theory. I've heard many times that the divorce rate for second marriages is higher than the divorce rates for first marriages. The idea here is that once you've been divorced, you are statistically more and more likely to get divorced from subsequent spouses.

The numbers don't lie, but I don't think they say what the pundits think they say. The increased likelihood of divorce in a second marriage has more to do with knowing when to call it quits than lack of ability to commit.

Think about it — with the exception of parenthood, there's nothing in the world that we commit to for our entire lives but marriage. We split up with our jobs, our homes, even our parents. If we had a job that sucked as much as a lot of marriages, we'd be out in a flash and everyone we knew would be commending us for doing it.

So why not with marriage? Why not laud the ability to realize that this person isn't for you? What about saying, "Right on! Way to be true to yourself!"?

My divorced sister-in-law is quasi-engaged to a man who is also divorced. They both married fairly young and for fairly stupid reasons. They're now in a position to know what they want and what they need in a partner far more than they could when they originally walked down the aisle. I'm happy for them, and I hope they're happy together. They certainly seem to be.

But if they were to split up or divorce, I wouldn't think it was because either of them wasn't able to be married. I would think that they weren't able to be married to each other. To me, divorcing under those circumstances seems like a pretty smart idea.

I spent Easter at my new in-laws' house. It's always a little awkward to be there for any length of time, but it seems to have reached fever pitch discomfort levels of late.

My partner's father has recently retired. He had a fairly demanding career and was out of the house a lot. My partner's mother had almost complete control of the house, and he generally stayed out of her way. I used to think that this was a fairly unevolved way to coexist. Now they're together all the time, and I've changed my perspective a bit.

I think they hate each other. They spent the entire long weekend in an upper-middle-class level domestic dispute. Everything was an argument. Should we feed the baby now, or should he eat while we're eating? Was it his idea to go on the Caribbean cruise, or hers? Was the photo taken in Bermuda or Barbados? Should we take the recycling down out now, or in half an hour?

By her account, he had numerous affairs over the years and they almost got divorced. By everyone else's account, this is bullshit. In households like this one, though, when someone says something that is not only bullshit but extremely offensive, you don't call them on it. You talk about how the stuffing tastes good with extra rosemary instead.

In writing for First Wives World, I've encountered many people who think that divorce is a tragedy. I'm starting to think that in some cases, it's a brilliant innovation. If they'd divorced 20 years ago, there's a slim chance they could be happy now. In their case, that slim chance of happiness seems a hell of a lot bigger than the chance they have at it now.

One of my favorite parts of being divorced is not having in-laws anymore. The freedom from all that extra censure and pressure cannot be overstated.

One of my least favorite parts of being part of a couple again is that you get yourself a brand spanking new set of in-laws, and they're often worse than the last.

The thing about in-laws is that they never like you. You're never good enough. You're never a good enough wife, you're never a good enough mother, you're never a good enough housekeeper. Nothing you do will ever meet the expectations placed upon you because they put those expectations in place years before either you or your partner were even born.

Some in-laws are obvious in their dislike of you. While this makes for some confrontational situations, nobody looks at you like you're crazy when you say your in-laws don't like you. Other in-laws — like, say, mine — are not obvious in their dislike. They are passive aggressive and make snarky comments with a big smile on their face, while asking you if you'd like more Merlot.

I wonder sometimes if it's possible to divorce the family without divorcing the man. And while wondering that, I wonder if divorcing the family could lower the divorce rate by an astronomical percent. Worth thinking about.

I visited with a couple of my single friends today, and it got me to thinking again about yesterday’s post. I’ve mentioned before that my son’s nanny is divorced. She’s the one with the husband who got their fertility specialist pregnant. She’s been single for years now, and I’ve rarely seen anyone so happy.

I go to her house and I see a home that’s perfect for its owner. She’s obviously so content and at peace with her life, I wonder if adding a husband would make things better or worse.

Later on I went to see a good friend of mine who’s a single mother of a 9-month old. She doesn’t get child support from her ex, and by her own definition, she’s dirt poor. She also seems to be incredibly happy — far happier now than she ever was before she split up from her ex, or even before she met him. Maybe it’s motherhood that suits her so well, but I see so much more joy in her life than I ever saw before.

There are times when I wonder what that kind of life would be like. I wonder what it would be like to have exclusive domain of a household, to be the one who makes all the decisions, the one who doesn’t have to ask anybody for their input. While I’m delighted with the life I have, I do wonder what the other side is like.

Reading the stories of everyone here on FWW makes me feel incredibly grateful. I live in the country decided by the United Nations to have the highest standard of living in the world. I am free to vote and work. I can bitch about my ex or my government or the cost of gasoline loudly and vocally and nobody can do anything to stop me.

I spend so much time writing my own divorce that it sometimes feels like a bigger problem than it is. When I read Samantha's and Rachel's posts about women who wait 15 or 20 years for a divorce in a system that heavily favors men, or when A.J. mentioned the Lost Boys Of Sudan, I felt blessed.

My world is a good one, and I'm thankful for that. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I hope it finds you well.

Now that I’ve started divorce proceedings, my partner and I have decided to start talking about getting married. It’s funny -- since I’ve been married before, people seem to think that I’m an expert on weddings. Nothing could be further from the truth.

When my ex and I got married, we did so on nine days notice. We were married at the courthouse by a lovely man named Parson Carson. I wore a white prom dress — thankfully not my prom dress, just one that was originally designed for that occasion. When we got engaged, we left a message for our best man, letting him know his services would be required. He didn’t actually get the message until 4 a.m. the morning of the wedding. Let’s just say we didn’t have much in the way of a rehearsal dinner.

So now we really don’t know what to do. My future mother-in-law seems to think that I either want a huge wedding because I didn’t have one the first time, or that it would be inappropriate to have a huge wedding since I’ve been married before. My friends are suggesting Vegas, Niagara Falls, the courthouse again. I refuse to be married twice in the same courthouse. In my city, we actually have a psychiatric hospital with a beautiful chapel — people have suggested we get married there.

The worst thing is, everyone is telling me I should have the wedding that I want. I just don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what to tell them. Maybe Vegas isn’t such a bad idea.

My ex and I agree about religion. Generally, we’re not big fans of it. For most divorced couples, this is probably a good thing. Nobody has to argue about whether or not the baby should have a bris if nobody’s Jewish.

For us, though, it’s harder. We were raised Mormon and his parents are still active in the church. So active that Michael’s got on board with the God Squad and is talking about serving a mission. My own mother — who is not now and never has been Mormon — called me from Marks & Spencer’s in England, asking if he’d like a children’s Bible. My ex and I went shopping together for baptismal jewelry.

What happened here? When did the life we ran so far away from become ours again? Is it a backlash thing? Is it like adult children of Republicans joining a commune, only to find their own children voting for Bush?

I wonder how to deal with all of this. I mean, my ex’s parents aren’t exactly my favorite people, but I respect their right to their religion. I just don’t want it to be my kid’s religion. Am I one of those mothers who thinks it’s okay for other people’s kids to be gay? Is that what I’ve become?

I try very hard to remember that Michael will probably change his mind. My ex tries to cheer me up by threatening to take Michael to Cancun for a year after he’s done high school — he thinks the sight of dozens of drunk, half-naked women might help to change Michael’s mind.

I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse, but right now, the whole church thing is a colossal pain in the ass.

If you have an ex and children, you've dealt with it: The Switch.

If your ex isn't a total deadbeat, he's going to spend some time with the children you had together, and you're going to have to see him. You're going to have to talk to him. You're going to have to be nice to him.

There's no good way to drop off your kids with your ex, unless maybe your kids are so young they don't know you were ever together, let alone that you're now divorced. It's not fun for them and it's not fun for either of you.

Someone should create a service. Maybe some kind woman who didn't quite finish her social worker degree could pull up in her standard issue silver Honda Civic and cheerfully transport your children for deposit into the possession of the man you once shared a bed with, and now can no longer share niceties with.

She can take care of the "how's work?" conversations and the "I'll get you that child support check as soon as I can" conversations and maybe even the "how's it going with that tramp you left me for?" conversations, too.

Until that service comes to market, though, we just keep plugging along, trying to make it as painless as possible. I found that the longer my husband and I have been separated, the easier it's become. What about you? Do you have any tricks to make the drop off go smoothly? Has it gotten easier as time has gone on?

There comes a time in every divorced Woman's life when she has to start dating again.

Sometimes it's because she wants to. Sometimes it's because she's sick of the "When are you going to start dating again?" questions. Soon enough, though, it happens to all of us.

There is the soul-destroying outfit selection process. There is the requisite discussion with our girlfriends about how much the dating world has changed since we were dating The Ex.

There is the selective memory loss about the actual amount of pain involved in getting a bikini wax. All of these are standard, normal, and compulsory.

We go on our date. We share a carafe of overpriced wine. We say witty things. Those of us who have hair make sure to toss it in a mysterious and alluring fashion. Everything goes well, and then it happens. We end up having The Talk.

The Talk is the conversation you have when you disclose that you have been married before. Sometimes The Talk involves the confession that you are actually still legally married. It's uncomfortable. It's full of weird pauses. It says with definition that you're probably not a virgin.

I was lucky with The Talk. I told the man who is now my partner that I'd been married before and he replied, "Well, I didn't think you had your son with a stranger!" This is rare and to be appreciated.

How do you handle The Talk?

Have you noticed that every divorced woman you know cut her hair when she separated from her husband? It’s practically an epidemic.

Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true, but divorced women tend to always make some major change to their appearance. Sometimes they dye their hair. Sometimes they lose 80 pounds. Sometimes they start dressing better. Sometimes they start dressing worse.

What is it about the divorce process that causes such radical changes? Is it the alleviation of depression? Is it the arrival of depression? Were our husbands so oppressive that we really, truly couldn’t be ourselves?

I think it’s because we can’t comprehend the level of change we’re going through without making some kind of physical statement. Our psyche needs a physical representation of our internal metamorphosis because just thinking about it isn’t enough. I think it’s like when people experience a spiritual conversion. There’s nothing inherently more spiritual about moving to an ashram in India, but people need to make the change. They need to feel like an active participant in the process.

When I separated from my husband, I cut my hair. Then I cut it again. Then I shaved my head because the pixie cut just wasn’t short enough. I started dressing like a tramp. I stopped dressing like a tramp and started dressing like someone in a Ralph Lauren ad. I’m interested to know if any of you out there made any drastic changes to your appearance when you got divorced? Did you find that it helped?