It started off as a joke, but here's why I'm drawing up a contract for my relationship.
For example, Catherine Zeta-Jones will be awarded $5 million should she discover Michael Douglas is cheating on her, on top of the $2.8 million she gets every year for just being married to him. And the New York Post has found even more ridiculous requests that couples are injecting into their contracts:
Among the craziest prenup requests were 'no piano playing while the husband is home', 'wife not allowed to cut her hair' and — from a man in his 40's who didn't want more children — 'if the wife were to get pregnant, she'd have to have an abortion.'
Couples have asked for random drug tests, custody of a taxidermy horse, guarantees of certain sexual positions (one put the 'reverse cowboy twice a week' in writing), and in one case, a $100,000 payout to the husband if the wife weighs over 170 pounds.
Sure, some of these are not just crazy, but downright offensive. However, some couples need such regulations to keep them happy and together, just as some must have a love that is free from rigid constraints in order to have a successful relationship — to each their own.
I, for one, am not about to run off to a city that actually sleeps if I can't eat croissants in bed while reading the Times and missing the great love of my life. Paris is beautiful, and I'm lucky he resides there as opposed to, say, Ohio. But let’s be honest, Paris is no New York.
Olivier and I have yet to officially draw up the contract; at this point, it's just a running list of demands on my part. But as my mother has always told me, love is about compromise, it's about a give and take, and if some of that giving and taking needs to be in pen and co-signed by a lawyer, then so be it.