Marriage vs Pre-nups

I’ve never hidden the fact that divorce has been financially devastating for me. At one point, it felt like everything I had built was reduced to zero. That experience changed me, and I want to share some honest reflections for anyone considering marriage or currently walking through something similar.

I still believe in marriage. I want that partnership — the person you come home to, build with, and give to fully. I haven’t lost that belief. But I have learned that love and commitment should not replace practical planning.

As the name of this blog suggests — “In This Day and Age” — marriage exists in a very different environment than it once did. Expectations have changed. Laws have changed. Financial systems have changed. That doesn’t mean marriage has lost its value. It means the structure around it has evolved.

Because of that, protections should be established for both sides — and, if there are children involved, for them most of all.

Even respected financial voices acknowledge that there is a time and place for prenuptial agreements and other safeguards. That isn’t planning for failure. It’s planning responsibly.

Faith traditions teach covenant, loyalty, and sacrifice. But even sacred texts were written in specific historical contexts. Human society today looks very different from what it did two thousand years ago. Our financial systems, property laws, and custody structures are not the same.

We don’t discard principles. We adapt their application.

Marriage can still be sacred. But in this day and age, wisdom means protecting both hearts and assets — and ultimately, protecting the children.

In today’s world, both men and women are financially capable and independent. That’s progress. But independence also comes with responsibility. Clear agreements, transparency, and mutual financial understanding are not signs of distrust — they’re signs of maturity.

Marriage should be about partnership, not vulnerability to financial collapse. Protecting yourself doesn’t mean you expect the worst. It means you understand that life can change.

Divorce cost me more than I ever imagined.

Roughly $250,000 in legal fees. Another $85,000 in custody-related litigation just to see my own children. Tens of thousands more supporting two households while proceedings stretched across two years. And the tax burden that came with carrying that weight — close to $100,000.

All in, the financial cost alone was around half a million dollars.

But money wasn’t the only thing it took.

It took pieces of my mental health. It tested my trust — not just in marriage, but in people I once relied on. It reshaped how I see relationships, institutions, and even myself.

And it’s still not fully over.

There were days it felt exhausting. Days it felt unfair. Days it felt like starting from zero.

But I didn’t collapse.

I kept showing up. For my kids. For my work. For myself.

I built a new support system. I rebuilt my discipline. I rebuilt my clarity. It wasn’t easy — it still isn’t — but there is pride in surviving something that could have broken you.

There’s a quote from Uncle Iroh in Avatar: The Last Airbender that carried me through some of the darkest parts:

“Sometimes life is like this dark tunnel. You can’t always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you just keep moving… you will come to a better place.”

There were moments I couldn’t see the light. But I kept moving. And that, in itself, is something to be proud of.

Now, here are the beliefs I’ve come away with:

Marriage should not be about finances or assets.

Love, loyalty, and partnership are emotional and spiritual commitments. Assets are legal constructs. The two shouldn’t be confused.

That’s exactly why finances need to be addressed clearly before marriage.

Have the uncomfortable conversations.

Discuss assets openly.

Put expectations in writing.

Consider a prenup — not as a prediction of failure, but as clarity of intention.

If you don’t have children yet, talk about them anyway. Talk about values. Talk about custody expectations. If something were to happen, would you both agree to 50/50 custody? Would you both agree that children deserve equal access to both parents? Don’t assume. Define it.

Clarity does not weaken a marriage. It strengthens it.

A prenup isn’t a lack of faith in your partner. It’s an acknowledgment that life can change — and that both people deserve protection and fairness. It removes incentives for financial warfare. It prevents love from turning into leverage.

Marriage should be entered freely — not financially entangled in a way that creates imbalance or hidden risk.

If two people truly intend to build a life together, they should also be willing to build a fair framework around that life — including, if necessary, a framework for how they would part. Whether through death or divorce, transparency is respect. It gives both partners the dignity of knowing the terms before emotions ever cloud judgment.

That’s not cynicism.

That’s wisdom earned the hard way.