Marriage. An institution borne of true love and an unending commitment before God, or Allah, or Whoever, with the idea of creating an enduring partnership between two people that will grow into a family full of faithfulness and encouragement. In theory.

The Divorce Rate is at around 50% which means that one out of every two couples will peace out on each other because he couldn't stop porking the babysitter, she couldn't put down the credit cards, etc. And when it's over all that's left is the "division of marital assets" which is a lawyer's way of saying "bicker like children over things they only care about cuz the other one wants it."

Marriage sounds awesome, but divorce scares the crap out of me. Especially so when it comes to the idea that a woman I'm with and gave my heart to now wants to take my money, whether she earned it or not. I can understand in some cases though. If she was my rock when I was struggling, then I'll cut the check with a smile...even if it'll take me a while to actually let it go. But every other situation I hear about makes me cringe in terror.

Then I read about Michael Douglas. Poor guy's been divorced from his ex-wife, Diandra, since 2000. Recently he underwent surgery and chemo treatments to remove a cancerous tumor the size of a walnut from his throat. In the meantime his sequel to the movie Wall Street dropped and the ex figured she deserved a cut so she took him to court. Nevermind the $45 million check he cut after their divorce and the houses in Beverly Hills and Majorca he had to vacate. She wanted 50% of whatever he made off of Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps because, I guess, $45 million doesn't carry in 2010 like it did in 2000.

Yeah. Marriage can kiss my grits. The idea of true love and commitment is a seductive mistress indeed. But last time I checked my bank statement, it laughed at me. But if I'd like to hold on to my last 20 cents in lieu of forking it over to my ex, I'm gonna do it. And if it means I gotta walk the earth a single man, guess I better get used to warming my bed with hot soup.

Ah. Campbells Soup, No one knows me like you do baby. No one.