Marriage is a financial contract; I have enough contracts

“Marriage is a financial contract; I have enough contracts already.” Thus declared Linda Fiorentino, and though her words bear the sting of cynicism, they also shine with the clarity of a truth often overlooked. In this declaration, marriage is stripped of its poetry, its vows, its sacred air, and is instead seen as a pact bound in law, property, and obligation. She speaks not of love or union of souls, but of the binding of accounts, the merging of wealth, and the weight of legal entanglements. Her voice reminds us that beneath the garlands of romance lies the parchment of contract, and for some, that parchment can feel heavier than gold.

From the earliest ages, marriage was not only a matter of love, but of alliance, inheritance, and exchange. In the kingdoms of Europe, unions were brokered between houses to secure land and crown; in ancient tribes, brides were often given with dowry or cattle, linking two clans by obligation as much as affection. The poets sang of love, but the rulers and families often saw contracts. Fiorentino’s words echo this ancient truth: that marriage, in the eyes of law and society, binds not only hearts but also fortunes, estates, and futures.

Consider the union of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon. At first, it was not merely a match of passion, but a contract between nations—England and Spain—meant to secure power and alliance. When love soured and dynastic needs shifted, Henry broke the contract, not only sundering a marriage but tearing an entire church from Rome. Here we see how the financial and political dimensions of marriage can outweigh the vows spoken in the chapel. Fiorentino’s jest, then, is not far from history’s grim lessons: contracts can entrap, entangle, and even destroy.

And yet, her words also carry defiance. To say, “I have enough contracts already,” is to reject the idea that love must be chained by legal terms. It is the cry of one who wishes for freedom, who fears that the weight of obligation might crush the joy of intimacy. She reminds us that too often, the sacred bond is reduced to papers and signatures, and that love, which should be the most liberating of all forces, can become another burden if treated only as a financial exchange.

But let us not hear Fiorentino as scorning love itself. Rather, she unmasks the danger of confusing the form with the essence. If marriage is only contract, then it becomes lifeless. If it is only obligation, then affection withers. Yet if marriage is first a covenant of souls, and only secondarily a contract of property, then its spirit is preserved. The financial contract must never eclipse the vow of love. Her words, biting as they are, remind us to guard the heart of the union from being lost in its paperwork.

The lesson for us is plain: when entering into marriage, see clearly both its beauty and its burdens. Do not be deceived by romance alone, forgetting the reality of law; nor be blinded by legalities, forgetting the wonder of affection. True wisdom is to honor both, while never allowing the lesser—money, contracts, obligations—to suffocate the greater—love, companionship, and shared destiny.

Practical wisdom follows: if you marry, do so with eyes open. Speak honestly with your beloved about finances, obligations, and expectations, but never let these be the foundation. Build first upon trust, respect, and devotion. If you choose not to marry, as Fiorentino implies for herself, do so not out of cynicism alone but out of the conviction that your freedom and dignity must not be compromised. For in the end, the value of marriage lies not in the contract, but in the living bond it protects.

Thus, Fiorentino’s words, though sharp, are a teaching. Marriage is indeed a financial contract, as history and law attest, but it must be more, or it is nothing. To bind oneself for love is noble; to bind oneself for money alone is folly. Let us, therefore, remember always that the papers fade, the accounts shift, but love, if nurtured, endures beyond all contracts. This is the wisdom the ancients would have us carry: that law may govern possessions, but only love governs the soul.