DEAR SUSAN: You were wondering about the advantages of being married. Even in these "concept of marriage as outdated" times, its advantages are overwhelming — most importantly, the legalities involved. Children — their custody, visitation and medical decisions — come first. Then there are decisions to be made in case of your death — a reality we all choose to ignore. You have property taxes, housing and automobile issues, bank accounts and paychecks. Need I continue? I think not. Then there's the personal satisfaction; nothing gives me greater happiness than introducing my wife. Call me anything and I'll reply, but you can always call me married. I wouldn't have it any other way. — From the "Single File" blog

DEAR BLOGGER: Agreed. There is magic in the words "wife" and "husband." But voicing the label has little meaning unless the partners are in sync. And that's the rub. Somehow nonstop propinquity can breed contempt, and then the whole thing comes crashing down, too many lives in tow. It's not the ceremony at the altar that's being re-examined. Not at all. Its pledge is sacred; its participants are starry-eyed. It's the 24-hour, nonstop, everyday routine, togetherness. It's having scant timeouts — the barricading of coupledom behind bedroom walls — that wears thin. (George Bernard Shaw described marriage as "a dull meal with the dessert at the beginning.") But marriage can and does work, if there's plenty of friendship beneath the marriage rings. (Translation: genuine liking linked to a willingness to slough off petty grudges.) How willing are you to ignore gender roles and move freely in the moment, to take each day as a new beginning? The reply (yours, for example) can make all the difference. Fingers crossed.

DEAR SUSAN: My mother and I have talked over the question you asked of us: Why not marry? And here is what we came up with: Marriage is hard to get out of. I grew up thinking my father paid so little attention to my mother that she might as well be single. Yet she was stuck — unhappy, neglected, unwilling to divorce on moral grounds and maybe a bit scared to leave, seeing as she had surrendered her livelihood when my father's job caused us to move.

Marriage often means being taken for granted. The two of them couldn't have started out that way, right? At some point, they must have been wild about each other — and I wonder whether marriage itself isn't the culprit. I wonder whether both people in a marriage might try a little harder to make each other happy when they're not aware of being pinned to each other for life.

Marriage has social baggage. Before women notice it, they're living out their husband's dreams and forgetting their own. This is not to say I will never marry, but I'd much rather live together for a good long time so I know what I'm getting into. My mother hates the idea, but I think she's coming to terms with it. Five years ago, she said that if I moved in with a boy, she'd disown me; but just the other day, she said, "If you and your boyfriend ever (pause) explore further commitment (pause), you should think about where you'd live." Wow. She's come a long way, baby. — From the "Single File" blog

DEAR BLOGGER: Growing up with parents who are living out a marriage from rote or fear, you were confronted with the choice of either swearing off men (and marriage) or vowing to learn from their example and educating yourself to make a better relationship — a totally different one, with fairness and communication galore. My money's on you to live out your dream. But just in case you waver when the moment comes to speak plainly about what's on your mind (the subject is irrelevant), remember your mom, who wants you to do better than she did. And if you need another role model, I'm always nearby, rooting for you and all my readers. You've chosen not to blame all men for your parents' plight but to learn from it and gravitate to a different kind of partner. Your mother is in your corner, rooting for you to create a fair and reciprocal relationship with a partner. Seems to me your mom isn't the only one who's come a long way. (Broad grin.)

Have a question for Susan? You can reach her directly at [email protected].