It’s funny how much like a business contract marriage is. Actually, that was all the rage a few years ago – entering into a written agreement with your future spouse as to the “terms” of your union. For instance, the person who didn’t mind cooking would offer to cook in exchange for not having to clean up afterward. The one who was more financially savvy would agree to pay the bills, as long as the other partner agreed to take out the trash on garbage day, and so on.
When I first heard about these written agreements, I wrinkled my nose in distaste. What is the use of being married, I thought, if everything is a quid pro quo? Isn’t the purpose of marriage to not only share the good and the bad, but to grow together? How can you grow if everything is etched in stone?
Almost 6 years in, I now know that whether you write the terms down or not, you are in a binding agreement. And the people who sit down and say, “this is what I want; this is what I need; and this is what I am willing to give and do” are better off in the long run. And, quite frankly, it is often the little things that begin to grate on your nerves after a while. It's the socks on the floor, the unwashed dishes and the unloaded dishwasher. It can be snoring or the way someone snorts when s/he laughs. What personally bothers me is the refrain: "I can't read minds!" Often said with equal parts frustration and derision. You don't need to be a mind-reader to know that dirty laundry will not wash, fold and/or put itself away. You don't need a ESP degree to know that an empty refrigerator means it's time to go grocery shopping!
On a whole, though, I am glad that our issues are relatively minor because the “terms” aren’t just about chores or who is going to pick up the kids from school; they are about how you treat yourself and about how you allow or expect others to treat you. For instance, I have family members whose partners routinely cheat on them. They turn a blind eye or – if confronted with the truth – show anger for a week or a month and then decide to “work things out.” Except their version of "working things out" is simply to ignore the problem; thereby allowing the partner to do it again and again. There’s one woman whose significant other has cheated on her at least 5 times – the last time was in her own bed. By not taking action the first time, she signed the contract conceding that he could do it the second, third, fourth and fifth time. Short of ripping that contract up and declaring a breach, there is no way to get out of it.
Then there are those for whom “divorce is not an option.” I am as much of a romantic as the next person, but that is like walking into a car dealership and saying, “I am going to buy a car from you today no matter how you treat me, or how much you inflate the cost of the car, or even if you try to sell me a lemon.” You can only imagine how well that salesman is going to treat you and how much effort he is going to put into that transaction – not very well and not very much. That's not to say that divorce should be taken lightly -- it shouldn't be. My "deal breakers" are but two things: infidelity and domestic violence. I'll work on everything else; but I'll be damned if I am going to lay down and be a doormat for anybody.
When I first heard about these written agreements, I wrinkled my nose in distaste. What is the use of being married, I thought, if everything is a quid pro quo? Isn’t the purpose of marriage to not only share the good and the bad, but to grow together? How can you grow if everything is etched in stone?
Almost 6 years in, I now know that whether you write the terms down or not, you are in a binding agreement. And the people who sit down and say, “this is what I want; this is what I need; and this is what I am willing to give and do” are better off in the long run. And, quite frankly, it is often the little things that begin to grate on your nerves after a while. It's the socks on the floor, the unwashed dishes and the unloaded dishwasher. It can be snoring or the way someone snorts when s/he laughs. What personally bothers me is the refrain: "I can't read minds!" Often said with equal parts frustration and derision. You don't need to be a mind-reader to know that dirty laundry will not wash, fold and/or put itself away. You don't need a ESP degree to know that an empty refrigerator means it's time to go grocery shopping!
On a whole, though, I am glad that our issues are relatively minor because the “terms” aren’t just about chores or who is going to pick up the kids from school; they are about how you treat yourself and about how you allow or expect others to treat you. For instance, I have family members whose partners routinely cheat on them. They turn a blind eye or – if confronted with the truth – show anger for a week or a month and then decide to “work things out.” Except their version of "working things out" is simply to ignore the problem; thereby allowing the partner to do it again and again. There’s one woman whose significant other has cheated on her at least 5 times – the last time was in her own bed. By not taking action the first time, she signed the contract conceding that he could do it the second, third, fourth and fifth time. Short of ripping that contract up and declaring a breach, there is no way to get out of it.
Then there are those for whom “divorce is not an option.” I am as much of a romantic as the next person, but that is like walking into a car dealership and saying, “I am going to buy a car from you today no matter how you treat me, or how much you inflate the cost of the car, or even if you try to sell me a lemon.” You can only imagine how well that salesman is going to treat you and how much effort he is going to put into that transaction – not very well and not very much. That's not to say that divorce should be taken lightly -- it shouldn't be. My "deal breakers" are but two things: infidelity and domestic violence. I'll work on everything else; but I'll be damned if I am going to lay down and be a doormat for anybody.
There are days in my marriage when I am blissfully happy and days that end with me fuming, “I didn’t sign up for this crap.” I used to think that I had no power; that I could only go along until I got to the point where I either learned to cope or got so fed up that I moved on. I have learned, though, that marriage can be like a career that you've put a lot of time and effort into – sometimes it’s frustrating, but most times it’s fulfilling. And, like a job, sometimes you have to stop and ask, “Am I being treated fairly? Am I getting equal value for what I am putting in?” If the answer is “no,” you have to be willing to speak up and change the terms of that contract. No one can do it but you. I’ve found that most people are always willing to renegotiate.
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