Q: As a lawyer, would you marry another lawyer? I just started law school and it seems to me that being married to another lawyer would be a match made in hell.
marriage
QI came across your site late one night while waiting for my wife to get home from work, and I thought, what the hell, why not ask for some advice? But I’m not a lawyer. I married one. We’ve been married 7 years, which predates law school but not by much. In other words, I married her supposedly knowing what I was getting into.
Or did I? Sure, I learned quickly not to offer vague answers to questions or inquiries, and we can joke about that—e.g., try answering “not really” to a lawyer and see what you get. But I’m not talking word games. I’m talking the larger life issues of being married to a workaholic lawyer.
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In honor of Valentine’s Day, here’s a tribute to the most commonly seen law school couples: the good, the bad, and the thank-god-you’re-currently-single.
1. Thing 1 and Thing 2
These two are constantly together, and usually not as adorable as the Dr. Seuss characters. They’re intentionally taking most (if not all) of the same classes, they sit together in those classes, they probably only have one set of notes/outlines between them, and one of them is usually paying hundreds of dollars a month for an apartment he/she can pretend to live in should a conservative family member ever ask or visit.
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We’ve now entered the second decade of the 21st century. American women have had the right to vote for almost 100 years, they account for slightly more than half of all professional and management jobs in this country, and they earn 81% of what men earn in full time salaried positions (compared to a piddly 62% in 1979). So there really isn’t anything that a woman in the US can’t do these days, right? Wrong.
Women can do anything they want—except be friends with a man. Yep, that’s right. The last impenetrably bulletproof glass ceiling hovering over the heads of women prevents us from entering into friendships with men.
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Some couples forego the idea of marriage because of the drudgery allegedly associated with it. White picket fence, bills, muffin tops, and mini-vans are not for everyone. But imagine if you could just let the marriage lapse and fade away if you or your spouse decide the marriage isn’t worth it anymore.
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We here at Bitter Lawyer are all for finding the easy way out. Grinding it out in BigLaw can earn you some dollars, but so can at lot of other things like marrying rich. The only thing better than marrying rich, is marrying rich . . . then getting into a messy divorce battle that you win! Here’s to hoping you find the right cash cow—and make sure you don’t get suckered into a prenup.
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In this week’s installment of the Bitter Brief, our perennial punching bag, Mr. Law School, gives us networking “advice” with which we, naturally, take issue. We take umbrage at the sexist undertones of Law Firm 10′s latest musings on marriage and parenting and Matthew Richardson’s equating the declining value of mid-level associates with the declining hotness of women. And, on the lighter side, Clarence Thomas is the latest SCOTUS inductee into a very quirky—but exclusive—club.
Love will conquer all … well, everything except a good divorce attorney. Hollywood marriages are as fleeting as the season’s fashion trends.
A prenuptial agreement is a contract between two people prior to marriage where various terms including property distribution and spousal support are spelled out if the marriage ends in divorce. Prenups are often touted as “unromantic”—but then again, so is divorce. California, where many celebrity unions occur, is a community property state. That means any income earned during a marriage is divvied up 50/50. A prenuptial agreement can trump this law by spelling out how the property will be distributed in the event of a divorce.
Eleven months have passed since my last post, which is more than enough time for a funny, attractive, intelligent, and sometimes-sexy girl to meet and successfully seduce a potential husband. Yet I’m certain that no one envisions a brand new three-carat ring twinkling on my left hand as I type this post. So it’s no surprise, then, that I’m still enduring the long day’s journey into night of my singledom. But I’ve been dealing with it fairly decently—until last week.
