Two landmark British divorce settlements may change the marriage contract forever. Author Alison Jameson asks if the pre-nup will kill romance
The date started out very well. He looked nice. He was on time. He had picked a great place - and then the questions began. He wanted to know how many bedrooms I have in my house, what my father does for a living, what sort of car I drive and finally, wait for it, what I got in my Leaving Cert.
Somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind was the idea, just a vague little wandering thought, that I might (I mean who ever knows?) "connect" in some way with this man and he must have thought that too, because he was giving me what I think is called the pre-pre-nup. The new "getting to know you" routine that could be summarised as "What have you got?" or "What might I get if we ever break up?"
The man in question clearly sees himself as a great prize, a fine Moby Dick of a catch - and he wanted to see if the other half would measure up. When I discussed this with a friend of mine she asked, without thinking, "What sort of car does he drive?" Never has material wealth been so much to the fore. But I couldn't help her there. When he came back from the bathroom I was wearing my coat.
A friend of mine attended an engagement party recently where the groom-to-be ended his speech by saying "I'll never see a poor day". His words, clearly meant as some odd joke, moved like a glacier through the room. "Very romantic," someone murmured.
A week later and I am wondering how single men will be affected by this week's decision by the British law lords to award Julia McFarlane and Melissa Miller sizeable chunks of their ex-husbands' earnings (Miller described receiving £5 million of her ex-husband's £20-30 million fortune as "a wonderful result".) Will it be similar to the reaction of wayward men in the 1980s as they watched Fatal Attraction and Glenn Close?
First of all we are newly asset-conscious and now, on top of that, there is a real risk of losing it to someone else. There is a definite whiff of danger now - it was always there, but suddenly it's getting really close. And what will happen to the commitment-phobes we know? The poor creatures will freeze up completely or just die from pure fright. Interestingly, Miller's ex-husband described the exact same scenario as "a shocking disgrace". Not the first difference of opinion they've had, I suppose.
Possessions and wealth have always been important, especially between couples. Who could forget the fuss Maureen O'Hara made about "her things" (furniture and dishes) in The Quiet Man - maybe a pre-nup might have saved her from being dragged on her backside half way across the country.
Not everyone is becoming greedier but we are all painfully aware of the hours of work, the real heavy lifting involved, to pay for that house, car, villa or boat. These things do not come easily, so are held close and will not be quickly given up. But people are still being a little shifty about it. They are embarrassed by it, knowing that it's important, but when it comes to love they are really not quite sure how to protect their wealth.
What a pre-nuptial agreement does, of course, is suggest a doubt and there is always a doubt somewhere. But to put it in writing - for us pre-nup novices - well, that would be like standing at the top of Grafton Street with a microphone. "I love her, really I do, but, you know, just in case . . . "
A solicitor friend tells me that a pre-nuptial agreement can be influential but is by no means a guaranteed safety net. He says - and what a surprise this is - "When it comes to marriage, and even a divorce, it's honesty and respect that make it work." Marriage has always been a scary business and I'm not sure how a pre-nup can help with that.
One of my sisters, who is cheerfully married, asked me recently why I always seem to go out with men who don't own cars. She seemed a little worried. I, on the other hand, had not noticed. She then listed out various men I know who prefer two wheels to four.
But there is something very consoling about a man on a bicycle. It is the very earnest locking onto lamp-posts, the clips on the trousers. There is no obvious possibility of a house in France, no cars with leather seats - and no questions about my own material worth. Perhaps it is more relaxing knowing that he is only worried that he might get drunk and fall off it and knowing that if things go wrong, I am not going to want to take away his bike.
This Man and Me by Alison Jameson is published by Penguin Ireland (€13.99)