Let’s say the thing that no one wants to hear: Fifty percent of marriages fail. The odds aren’t great. Imagine if we were going skydiving and someone said, “There’s a fifty percent chance your parachute won’t open.” Kind of changes things, doesn't it?
As humans, we’re unique in our cognitive ability to conceive of what lies ahead. “Looking into the future, consciously and unconsciously, is a central function of our large brain,” explains psychologist and author Dr. Martin E. Seligman.
Researchers believe we perceive this future through a lens that, while not completely rose-colored, infuses our outlook with a certain optimism. To survive, we need to be sufficiently aware of potential dangers to act accordingly, yet our fixation on loss must be tempered with a belief that things will work out okay— otherwise, what would motivate us to keep on going?
We experience this balance playing out every time we fly. What do you do when you get to your seat on the plane? You fasten your seatbelt and (hopefully!) pay attention to the safety demonstration. You don’t do this because you don’t trust your pilot or the mechanical integrity of the plane, or because you believe that your flight will crash. If that was the case, why would you fly in the first place? We do it because we want to be prepared. Seatbelts and safety demonstrations exist because risk awareness drives us to be prepared.
Acknowledging the risks doesn’t dissuade us from doing it; instead, it prompts us to do what we can now to make our future less stressful, because we generally have faith that we’ll be alright.
In other words, considering worst-case scenarios inspires us to proactively prevent them, thereby embracing our future.
But when it comes to marriage—one of the biggest financial ventures of our lives—this instinct goes awry. Emotions muddy the water. Fear and shame prevent us from rationally confronting the unavoidable risks involved in a lifetime partnership.
One reason prenups are so stressful is that they foreground the risk that our marriage might not work, or that our spouse sees us as a financial liability and not the love of their life. This strikes a chord of distress in all of us. Instead of addressing these concerns directly, and in a way that emphasizes prevention of the worst-case scenario rather than damage control after it happens, the process and purpose of a prenup only magnifies them. It taints the way we look at the future by overly weighing what might go wrong instead of focusing on how to make things go right.
How are we supposed to establish honest, respectful, and positive communication about money in a context that’s fraught with fear and reactivity? The answer is: We can’t.
Yet ignoring the potential consequences of your financial and emotional dynamic changing over time isn’t the answer either. That’s like not having health insurance because you’d rather not think about the bad things that could possibly befall your body. It’s vital to have a plan that covers you in the event that something changes.
This is why we don't believe in traditional prenups. They're inherently adversarial. The partner who has more to lose in the event of a divorce stands to benefit the most from a prenup, and the self-serving nature of this contract is precisely why prenups are shrouded in controversy and negativity.
They don’t focus on the marriage at all; they focus on protecting an individual's finances if it fails.
But while prenups are problematic, the principle behind them isn't: Marriage is a legal contract with significant consequences. And we know there are benefits to a contract between potential spouses. We call it a Partnership Agreement and it takes into consideration all the ways a relationship can evolve through the years. Doesn't that sound like a better way to kick off a supportive, mutually beneficial marriage?
