Is Marriage a Scam or Are We Just Doing It Wrong?

I’ve seen a lot of comments lately online that echo the same sentiment: “Marriage is a scam.” Or my personal favorite—“I’d rather go it alone than be weighed down by a bunch of idiots.”

And honestly? I get it.

Those aren’t just edgy opinions. They usually come from pain. Pain that’s been worn as armor. Pain that’s been dressed up as clarity. Because when you’ve been hurt enough times—or watched others get hurt—it’s tempting to write off the whole institution. Safer to distance yourself than risk being disappointed again. But here’s the question:

Is marriage itself the problem, or is it the way we’ve been practicing it?

In my work as a therapist, particularly with couples, I’ve come to believe this: most people who reject marriage aren’t rejecting what marriage truly is. They’re rejecting the hollow, performative version they’ve seen up close. The kind that starts with a photoshoot and ends in resentment. The kind that banks everything on feelings but has no framework for storms.

Let me be blunt: healthy relationships weren’t modeled for most of us. We weren’t taught how to deal with conflict, how to repair it, or how to take ownership. So we grow up thinking love should be easy, or that commitment means being chained to misery. We end up either romanticizing marriage or demonizing it, when in reality, it’s neither. It’s something more demanding. More sacred. And, if done right, more life-giving.

Marriage is not a performance. It’s a covenant. A vow to carry weight, not just your partner’s, but your own, in the presence of another person who’s carrying theirs too. That’s no small thing. That’s the kind of commitment that shapes people, not just comforts them.

Jordan Peterson talks about how meaning comes not from freedom, but from responsibility. That the heaviest burden you can carry might also be the most meaningful. And I believe marriage is one of those burdens. Not because it’s a trap, but because it calls us to grow in ways we never would alone.

And yet, we live in a culture that idolizes autonomy. We’ve traded covenant for convenience, depth for independence. We think the highest form of self-expression is being unbound by anything or anyone. But let me ask you: if you never bind yourself to anything beyond your own feelings, how are you going to become someone who can endure? Who can love with consistency? Who can weather real life?

Growth doesn’t come through ease.

It comes through friction.

Through staying.

Through trying again.

And if you want proof that marriage works—not just emotionally, but physically, psychologically, and financially—there’s plenty. Study after study shows that those in stable marriages report higher life satisfaction, lower rates of depression and anxiety, better immune health, and even increased longevity. Married couples often hold more wealth than singles. Why? Because long-term thinking beats short-term gratification.

It’s not marriage that ruins people. It’s immaturity inside of marriage that does that. And when two immature people get married without guidance, without grounding, and without clarity—that’s when things fall apart.

So when someone says, “I’d rather go it alone than be weighed down by a bunch of idiots,” I hear more than frustration. I hear someone who’s exhausted. Who’s probably been hurt by foolishness parading as love. And I get it.

But isolation isn’t strength. Bitterness isn’t wisdom. And making pain your compass won’t lead you anywhere worth going.

The miracle of marriage isn’t that it’s perfect. It’s that two imperfect people choose to grow anyway. Choose to stay when it’s hard. Choose to carry weight together instead of alone. That’s not weakness. That’s resilience.

Look—I’m not here to pretend marriage is for everyone. Or that every marriage should last. Some relationships are toxic. Some need to end. But that’s not the failure of marriage. That’s the failure of preparation, discernment, or healing.

Marriage isn’t a scam.

But the way we’ve been doing it? That might be.

If we want fewer broken marriages, we don’t need to burn the institution down. We need to build it better. With honesty. With maturity. With a willingness to say, “This is hard. But it’s worth it.”

Because the truth is this: life will include suffering. That’s non-negotiable. The only question is whether you’ll suffer alone, or whether you’ll share the load with someone committed to carrying it with you.

Marriage is one of the greatest risks you’ll ever take. But if you let it, it will shape you into someone deeper, wiser, and more capable of love than you thought possible.

Not because it’s easy.

But because it’s real.