In addition to being beautiful, intelligent, and articulate, the woman of my dreams would also greet my request for a prenuptial agreement with a carefree laugh and say, "I've already had the papers drawn up, darling." Sadly (or perhaps not?), I have more chance of securing all of the first three qualities than I do of the latter, because prenups are perceived by most to be a cynical recognition that despite the obligatory exposition of the ring's symbolism at every ceremony, many marriages do have an end. Indeed, it would seem many consider a prenup a backhanded prediction of a given marriage's failure since it makes divorce such a painless procedure.
This irrational sensibility is so deep, that even a Harvard lawyer who has researched prenuptial agreements and recognizes their benefits has the following to say:
"If my boyfriend suggested it to me, I would probably leave," she admits. "It's like you're planning for divorce. It signals that you think there's a positive probability for divorce."
I understand the general sentiment, but that last sentence doesn't make any sense. Only in a Hitler-style marriage where the honeymoon consists of chomping on cyanide and a gunshot wound to the head are the chances of divorce effectively nil. For the rest of us more inclined to bet on life, taking reasonable steps to ease the ache of possible future distress should not be considered a signal of something dastardly, even if it will probably never reach the apogee of romanticism.