RENEWABLE MARRIAGE LICENSES SAVE HEADACHES, HEARTACHES

That person is me.

First, let's consider some background on the subject.

About half of all marriages end in divorce, usually after the 100th time the wife has said, "You never listen to me anymore!" or the husband has said, "Honey, I am TRYING to watch the GAME here!" And then there's the sad aftermath of divorce. Women sit around wracking their brains, wondering what they could have done differently while men get young, nubile girlfriends and sports cars.

Traditional methods of saving marriages such as pre-marital counseling, Promise Keepers and getting into so much debt that you need two incomes to pay credit card bills have had limited success. It's clearly time to look toward a new solution, a solution summed up in three little words.

Renewable marriage licenses.

Think about it. Every other license in the world has to be renewed. You renew your business license, your fishing license, your license to practice medicine.

Only a marriage license is permanent and non-renewable. Even worse, there's no pre-marriage testing required to get it.

Consider the process I went through to get my driver's license. I had to pass a written test on the rules of the road and an eye examination. Then I had to take the driving portion of the test twice before I passed.

Then I had to renew my license every three years.

To get my marriage license, I had to sign a document, come up with 50 bucks and then stand with The Other Half during a two-minute-long civil ceremony. (I also bought the judge a fruit basket to show my appreciation, but he wouldn't accept it.)

I propose that we make the marriage license process like the driver's license process.

First, couples would take a written test. Here's a sample question for the groom:

You're sitting on the couch watching television. Your wife walks into the room wearing a new peignoir set. The appropriate thing for you to say is:

A. "You're blocking the TV."

B. "What's for dinner?"

C. "How much did you pay for that nightgown, anyway?"

D. "Whooooaaaaa, Momma!"

The correct answer, of course, is D. Here's a sample question for the bride:

You and your husband are planning to attend a party. The attire is semi-formal. The correct amount of time between your husband getting dressed and ready to go and you being dressed and ready to go is:

A. However long I want it to be.

B. Five minutes.

C. Twenty minutes.

D. You should plan to be ready at the same time so you won't arrive late.

The correct answer, of course, is A. (Just kidding. It's D.)

The practical part of the test would consist of a longtime wife or husband spending a day with the couple and grading them based on how they interact. I imagine conversations about sex or money would be the parallel parking of marriage tests they either make or break you.

If both parties passed the written and practical marriage tests, they would be allowed to marry. However, the marriage license would be good for only three years.

This will cut down on divorce because a couple might be more willing to stick it out past that first, horrible year of marriage if they knew they could split up in two more years without any legal hassles. By the time they reached the third year, they might be willing to renew.

I've been working on this theory for years and have widespread support. My friend Stacey, who divorced her high-school sweetheart after six months of marriage, said it would work, but she preferred one-year renewal terms.

And a woman I met at a wedding shower Sunday, who said she'd been divorced four times, said my plan would have saved her a lot of money in legal fees. (Personally, I don't think I'd have a quadruple divorcee at my wedding shower. Bad luck.)

I'll be talking to our local legislators about my idea. We'll see how it goes.