How to Decide if You Should Get Married
“Please complete these three worksheets before Wednesday,” I said.
And no, I wasn’t talking to a client.
I handed Scott several pieces of paper full of probing questions about his life, his family, and our relationship. He groaned. I didn’t blame him.
Welcome to life as my boyfriend. We’d been dating for four years, so he was used to serving as my guinea pig, piloting my relationship activities before I made recommendations to my clients.
This particular homework assignment was designed to help us discuss getting married, something we’d been considering for a while. We’d gone through major relationship decision points: Are we dating? Should we move in together? Should we break up? But now we faced a new set of intimidating questions: Do we want to spend our lives together? What would that life look like? I was in love with him, but I also knew enough about relationship science to understand the challenges we faced. So many marriages don’t last.
This felt like the biggest decision of our lives so far. And it turned out we were right to make the choice carefully. Marriage matters, in more ways than you may realize. In their book The Case for Marriage, journalist Maggie Gallagher and sociologist Linda J. Waite found that the happiness and satisfaction of marriage has a tremendous impact on happiness, physical and mental health, life expectancy, wealth, and the well-being of children.
I thought Scott and I needed a pre-marriage boot camp, so I created one. It’s called “It’s About Time: Past, Present, and Future.” (Note: The runner-up title was “It’s About Time: F**king Put a Ring on It.”) It’s designed to help you think about where you’ve been, where you are, and where you’re going. Luckily, Scott was game to participate. This process helped us, so I’ve since shared it with my clients and friends. And now I’m sharing it with you.
You may be thinking, I don’t care about marriage. It’s a dumb institution. I don’t need the government and the church telling me how to live. That’s fine. But I assume that if you’re reading this book, you’re hoping to find a long-term partner. In this chapter, I refer to “marriage,” but if you don’t plan to get married and would rather substitute the phrase “long-term committed relationship” (or replace the tradition of rings with mutual tattoos of the other person’s face on your face), that’s also a great way to read this chapter.
Remember, love is a drug. Here’s how writer George Bernard Shaw put it in his play Getting Married: “When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part.” During the first few years of a relationship, when our brain experiences the effects of this drug, it’s almost impossible to rationally evaluate that partnership.
Couples who date longer before getting married have better odds of staying together, in part because that honeymoon-period high is already wearing off when they tie the knot. Their eyes are more open when they say “I do.” Couples who wait one to two years before getting engaged are 20 percent less likely to get divorced than those who wait under a year before putting a ring on it. Couples who wait at least three years before engagement are 39 percent less likely to get divorced than those who get engaged before a year.
It’s not just about waiting until you’ve been with the person for a longer period of time. It also might pay to get married when you’re a bit older. Researchers like sociologist Philip Cohen attribute the declining divorce rate since the 1980s partially to couples getting married later. Perhaps you should follow my quirky aunt Nancy’s rule with her kids: “No marriage until thirty!”
Even if you wait a few years, love can still obscure your priorities. When I interviewed a series of divorce lawyers (a bit of an awkward hobby to explain to Scott), several said that couples often make the same big mistake when considering marriage. They’re so fond of each other that they assume the other person wants the same things in life; therefore, they don’t set aside the time to talk explicitly about major decisions like where to live or if they want children.
In fact, journalist Naomi Schaefer Riley, author of ’Til Faith Do Us Part: How Interfaith Marriage Is Transforming America, found: “Remarkably, less than half of the interfaith couples in my survey said they’d discussed, before marrying, what faith they planned to raise their kids in.” By the time couples discover their incompatibility on fundamental values, they’re already married. Enter the divorce lawyer.
This optimistic assumption that you and your partner want the same thing makes sense, by the way. We’re led astray by the false-consensus effect—a tendency to assume that the majority of others agree with our own values, beliefs, and behaviors. For example, imagine someone who cares about the environment and tries to limit her own meat eating, fossil-fuel usage, and plastic consumption. If a local referendum asked voters to rule on a plastic-bag ban, that person might expect the rule to pass easily, because she would assume that others see the world through the same green-tinted glasses. In a relationship, we take it for granted that our partner sees the world the same way we do—and therefore wants the same things, whether it’s how many kids to have or where to live or how to spend or save money. The drug of infatuation, combined with the false-consensus effect, leads a lot of couples to skip crucial pre-marital conversations. So, no, being in love is not enough. It’s time to think critically about whether you should get married.
EXERCISE: Answer the All About Me Questions
Before you think about yourself as part of a couple, consider your individual wants and needs. Schedule some time alone. I recommend blocking off a weekend morning, going solo to a coffee shop with a notebook, and answering these questions.
- Is my partner more of a Prom Date or a Life Partner? In other words, is this someone who will be by my side for the long term, or someone who’s just fun now?
- The Wardrobe Test: If my partner were a piece of clothing in my closet, what would they be?
- Is this someone I can grow with?
- Do I admire this person?
- What side of me does this person bring out?
- Is this the person I want to share my good news with?
- When I have a hard day at work, do I want to talk about it with my partner?
- Do I value my partner’s advice?
- Am I looking forward to building a future with this person? Can I envision reaching key life milestones together, such as buying a house or having a family?
- Is this someone I can make tough decisions with? If I imagine worst-case scenarios, like losing a job or losing a child, is this the person I’d want by my side to think through questions like “Should we relocate?” or “How can we manage our grief while taking care of our other children?”
- Do we communicate well and fight productively?
Read through your responses. But instead of reviewing them as yourself, pretend you’re reading what your best friend wrote about her relationship. The goal here is to be as honest with yourself as possible. Giving yourself some distance—by imagining you’re helping a friend—should provide some perspective.
If this were your close friend, for whom you care deeply and want only the best, how would you advise this person? Are you in favor of the marriage? Do you harbor some concerns? What unanswered questions should they address before moving forward?
Sit with the feelings that come up as you review your answers. This is your moment to decide whether you hit the gas or the brakes. Move to Part 2 only if you decide this is the right relationship for you right now. If you’re unsure, you may want to revisit Chapter 14, to see if it’s time to end it or mend it. And if you don’t feel ready to get married, that does not spell disaster. You may simply need to spend more time investing in the relationship before you’re ready for the next stage. There’s no point in rushing such a momentous decision. Remember, couples who wait at least three years are 39 percent less likely to get divorced than those who get engaged after less than a year.
If Part 1 goes well, and you decide to continue, it’s time to talk to your partner. These are heavy conversations. Set aside three nights over a month. Don’t cram them all into one evening!
Your goal, throughout these conversations, is to stay curious. Discover what your partner wants and understand if this aligns with what you want. Remember, you’re trying to avoid the false-consensus effect.
EXERCISE: Answer the All About Us Questions
Set aside one night per conversation. I recommend doing an activity together first to help you feel connected. Psychotherapist Esther Perel notes that one of the moments when we feel most attracted to our partners is when we admire their individual talents. Invest in that attraction by teaching each other a new skill. If one of you is a great cook, why not teach the other a new recipe?
You also want to make the experience feel romantic. I mean, you’re talking about possibly getting married—what could be more romantic than that? Set the scene. Dress up. (Read: Don’t wear those hideous red sweatpants you got at someone’s bat mitzvah ten years ago and refuse to throw away even though your fiancé hates them.) Pull out the bottle of wine you’ve been saving, cue the Sam Cooke playlist, and snuggle up to answer these questions.
Conversation #1: The Past
- What are three moments about your past that you feel define you?
- How do you think your childhood affects who you are today?
- Did your parents fight? What are your fears around relationship conflict?
- What traditions from your family do you want to carry on in our family?
- How did your family talk (or not talk) about sex when you were growing up?
- What did money represent in your family?
- What baggage from your family do you want to leave in the past?
Conversation #2: The Present
- Do you feel comfortable talking to me as things come up?
- Is there anything about our communication style that you want to work on?
- Do you feel like you can be yourself in the relationship? Why or why not?
- What changes would you like to make to our relationship?
- How well do you think we handle conflict?
- What’s your favorite ritual that we do together?
- What’s something you wish we did more of together?
- How well do you feel like I know your friends and family? Is there anyone in your life (family, friend, coworker) whom you’d like me to get to know better?
- How often would you like to be having sex? How could our sex life be better? What can I do to improve it? What’s something you’ve always wanted to try but have been afraid to ask for?
- How often do you think about money?
- Let’s talk openly about our finances. Do you have student loans? Credit card debt? Is my debt your debt?
- What’s the most you’d spend on a car? A couch? A pair of shoes?
Conversation #3: The Future
- Where do you want to live in the future?
- Do you want to have kids? If yes, how many? When? If we can’t conceive on our own, what other options would we consider? Adoption? Surrogacy?
- What are your expectations around splitting child care and housework duties?
- How often do you want to see your family?
- What role do you want religion or spirituality play in our lives?
- Do you want to discuss a prenup? What fears does that bring up for you?
- How do you expect to split finances in the future?
- Do you expect you’ll always want to work? What happens if one of us wants to take time off?
- If I were considering a big purchase, at what point would you want me to call you? (For example, what’s the cutoff for how much I can spend without checking in with you first?)
- What are your long-term financial goals?
- What are you most looking forward to in the future?
- What is a dream of yours for the future? How can I help you achieve it?
You may worry that these conversations will be awkward or forced. Scott and I expected that, too. But as we made our way through them, we shared long-forgotten stories from our childhoods. Like the time I had a middle-school meltdown because I was jealous that my neighbor received ten shimmery MAC eye shadows—the sixth-grade equivalent of a Rolex—from her parents for Valentine’s Day. (What kind of parents even give their kids presents on Valentine’s Day?) Scott told me a hilarious story about how his mom refused to buy him a pricey pair of JNCO jeans—the pinnacle of fashion for middle-schoolers in the late ’90s. (After looking at pictures of these hideous jeans on the Internet, I think his mother made the right call.)
During one of these conversations, we discovered that Scott wants only one child, and I would like two. He’s an only child and I have a sister, and apparently, we both want to re-create the dynamic we had growing up. Our date suddenly turned combative as we argued the merits of our respective childhoods. Scott expressed his belief that it’s morally questionable to add more than one child to an overpopulated planet, while I argued that having a sibling automatically enrolls you in ten thousand hours of training in emotional intelligence. Even though we didn’t see eye to eye on this point, I was happy we identified our differing views. We decided it wasn’t a dealbreaker, because while our preferences weren’t aligned, we were both willing to compromise. We plan to have one kid and see how we feel after that.
These conversations convinced me that not only was this the right relationship for right now, it was also the right partnership moving forward. I admire Scott’s discipline—the way he works out every day, cooks healthy vegan meals, stays up late finding bugs in his software. I love our silly voices and inside jokes. And I believe in us as a team. We know how to compromise and take turns getting our way. When I asked myself the Wardrobe Test question, I imagined him as my favorite pair of red-checkered onesie pajamas, which make me feel safe, warm, and supported. Like I’m wearing a hug.
About six months after we completed this process, Scott invited me to our friend David’s magic show. David is a talented mentalist magician who can divine the names of childhood pets and obscure vacation destinations of total strangers. He has a regular Wednesday-night show at a theater nestled in the back of a bar called PianoFight.
That night, as David finished, the crowd rose in a standing ovation. After the applause, David said, “I have one more trick.” At the beginning of the show, audience members had written their name and a single word on blank playing cards. David asked a volunteer to select a card. I heard him call my name, and I made my way to the stage.
Then David told me to pull another card at random. Magically, the one I chose had Scott’s name on it. Scott walked down the stairs to sit next to me onstage.
We sat there, the lights blinding us to the fifty-person audience. David took a volunteer’s phone, opened the calculator app, and started multiplying numbers supplied by members of the crowd. The final tally emerged: 452015. David asked if this number meant anything to us. I didn’t recognize it.
Then he drew two slashes between the digits, transforming the number into 4/5/2015. He asked, “Is this your birthday? Scott’s?” No—it was our anniversary.
Then David took the deck of cards with names and words on it and asked me to split it into five piles. He asked Scott to turn over the top cards one at a time, and instructed me to transcribe the message on a large easel.
“Will…,” I wrote on the board as Scott read the first card.
“You… be… my…”
I covered my face with my hands as I waited for the final card.
“Wife.”
Scott stood up from his chair and pulled a ring from his pocket. He got down on one knee. I nodded, grabbed the ring, and pulled him into a hug. After the crowd erupted, David whisked us out of the theater. We emerged into the bar, where a group of thirty friends greeted us. They had formed a “love tunnel,” standing two by two with their arms extended overhead. We ran triumphantly through the tunnel.
Although the proposal was a huge surprise, the fact that we wanted to marry each other wasn’t. We’d done the work. We’d had the hard conversations. We’d chosen to decide, not slide.