Former

Who was it?
A former spouse.
Ah, that guy. Well then.

Let’s dig into the real reason—or reasons—behind the institution of marriage. Careful—there’s glue here.
The aforementioned “former” would be incredibly old by now, because people were already talking about marriage back in antiquity. Back then, the idea was mostly political: sealing alliances and transferring property within marriage.
Verdict: Ancient marriage moved things around.

Then came the Middle Ages, caught wind of this marriage thing, and brought the Church into play. 
A whimsical idea from antiquity was suddenly repackaged as a sacrament. Hallelujah! 
And what had been a straightforward contract became romanticized. A pink-coloured catalogue of possibilities emerged: white carriages with white horses, wedding dresses stitched for one-time use, and guest lists inevitably spiced up with a drunk uncle. 
A little fun never hurt.

Marriage became double-layered: first, the legal contract between two people and the state; then, the romantic ritual.
Sure, there are a few traps hidden in the fine print—or in the vows. 
Who on earth coined the phrase “This is the happiest day of my life,” usually whispered from the sweetly tinted lips of the bride? The moment the words escape into the open air, alarm bells should go off for every bride—and many a groom. 
The happiest day of your life? What about tomorrow morning—and the next seventy possible years of married life?

Ah yes. Then came everyday life. Then the kids. And eventually, retirement.
I get it.

Yes, yes, yes—marriage comes with many advantages. But most are rather sober consequences of a contractual partnership. Still, they make sense—especially for the partners when the time comes to separate bed and board, when one of the former lovebirds needs to look elsewhere. Divorcing a marriage contract shouldn’t be a big deal. 
After all, everything’s supposed to be laid out in writing. At least in theory.

During a split, claims are settled: Who pays spousal support to whom? How much? And from what? Of course, if the wife raised the children, kept the house running, and put food on the table while forgoing paid work, then the amount of the monthly payment needs to be determined. Painful? Probably.

And when one partner dies, there’s something to inherit—so the hope goes, and so the consolation patch is applied. 
All the better if that, too, was already spelled out in the contract of the now-former couple.

Ah yes—almost forgot the kids. They often suffer the most when Mom and Dad split—at least in terms of living arrangements. 
But children have this extremely inconvenient urge to be cared for. That’s why the law includes a clause that regulates custody for shared children.

Now, all these rules are sobering. 
So what’s left to make the state’s marriage package appealing? 
Where’s the advantage—or the advantages—within the legal framework?

Ah yes: good old money. Married couples enjoy certain tax benefits that singles don’t get. 
Singles pay more taxes because they contribute neither children (i.e., future pension contributors) nor unpaid caregiving work—usually done by mothers, sometimes by fathers.

Singles are selfish—but childless. 
Single groups - mostly in bars - rumours circulate that the perks of staying single still come out ahead. 
After all, legal battles with lawyers, courts, and financial claims are avoided.
Selfish? Hmmm… somehow… no. The agony of choice wasn’t that bad.

Yes, I think the concept of marriage is good—mostly sensible, and especially valuable for any society. 
After all, the family is the foundation for a social, empathetic, and creative upbringing of children.

But singles need protection too. Mostly from themselves. Right?