2025-07-06
I was lucky enough to meet the woman I wanted to marry during my sophomore year of college (I'll refer to her as J in this post). Those initial years of dating are what you might expect — carefree, spontaneous, and playful. We didn't have responsibilities yet. Then we entered the "real world". We got married. We had bills. We had a mortgage. We had kids. And while we faced a bunch of challenges over the years, I like to think we navigated them fairly well.
I originally wrote this list as a reflection for myself. But after talking about many of these topics with close friends (and even some strangers!) over the years, I thought I would post it for anyone to read. These are my observations on marriage.
Marriage is nuance. My parents always told me that the most important factor in a healthy marriage is shared values. I thought it was a bit trite, but still prioritized it. J and I are both Chinese, which honestly gave us a strong foundation [1]. Things like "respect your elders", "family comes first", and "kids before each other" were expectations. I thought that would be enough. In hindsight, I didn't realize how much the nuance of those values would matter. For example, J and I "put the kids first" in very different ways. She wants to be at all their activities. I want to be the one they go to when they're sad or in trouble. At first, we got frustrated with each other for not having the same view on this value. Over time, we've realized that we're complementary in a way that really benefits the kids. And we don't feel like either side is carrying more weight. We're just carrying different types of weight. She carries the burden of time. I carry the burden of emotion. And it works.
Marriage is (re)commitment. The concept of a wedding is funny to me because it gives the impression that you're marrying someone once. In reality, you're marrying that version of that person at that particular instance in time. But things change. Your circumstances change. Your priorities change. Even your views and standards change. So every year you stay together, you're really saying "I want to marry this version of you", which sounds intense but it’s true. And it’s a really sobering perspective. It keeps you from yearning for a previous version of someone. It humbles you to know that your significant other is choosing to accept all the changes you've gone through (good and bad). It pushes you to grow in ways so they'll want to marry you again next year. And there's something lovely about that to me.
Marriage is fighting. Growing up, I hated it when my parents fought. Even when they tried to hide it, I could feel the passive aggressiveness emanating from them. I thought to myself, "I'm never going to fight with my wife". But fighting is a release valve. It's natural for tension to build. For both sides to get frustrated about something — especially trivial things. Life is messy. So is marriage. If you approach fights as a way to decompress the natural cycle of a relationship, it can be quite productive. You give each other a bit more grace. You let each other get heated — to defrag the system. When it's over, you say "I love you" and mean it [2].
Marriage is laughter. The old adage is “laughter is the best medicine”. I would go further to say laughter is a key ingredient for a healthy marriage. Neither of you needs to be a comedian. But I think a shared sense of humor goes quite deep. It gets to the root of your beliefs. It is the purest form of joy. If you can’t laugh at the same jokes, or if you never make each other laugh, how are you supposed to enjoy life, let alone each other’s company? As you spend more time together, as you go through more challenges together, you develop inside jokes. You find ways to laugh about the good, the bad, and the ugly. You laugh about things you can’t laugh about with anyone else. And it becomes one of the many reasons you become even more meant for each other than when you first met.
Marriage is learning. I was dumb enough to try and start a company [3]. Then I joined another startup as the first employee. I poured every hour and ounce of energy I had into them. It was thrilling. But it was at the expense of our relationship. One night we had a big fight and decided to take a break. After some time alone to calm down and reflect, we both realized where we had gone wrong. I was never present. We were together, but we were never together. J never shared how she actually felt. She suppressed her feelings, which always ended up amplifying them. We named that fight The Valley™️. And we promised to never reach it again. Since then, we've approached The Valley™️ several times. But now that we have a name for it, we can spot it, take action, and avoid it. It's resulted in us moving or changing jobs. And it's been 100% worth it every time.
Marriage is part of your job. I never liked the term “work-life balance” because it implies separate buckets for work and life. In reality, I have found they are deeply intertwined. When you take a job, you are making a bunch of decisions for your spouse. Whether it's how much money you make or how much time you'll have, it deeply influences their life. Early on I would talk to J about jobs through the lens of what I wanted. Over time, I’ve learned to talk about them in terms of what we want, and how it might impact her (or the kids). Every job takes time and attention. It will interfere with the other parts of your life. And if you don’t talk about those upfront, it will feel like a "sacrifice" when it was really a mutual decision. For me, it turned out that how often I traveled for work was very important. So before I joined Stripe, I was very explicit with the company (and with J) on what the expectations would be. While my travel schedule is more intense than previous jobs, the way we talked about it ahead of time has made it much easier on our home life.
Marriage is intentional. It's easy to forget that you've chosen to spend your entire life with this person. You think they are awesome. And they must know that, right? Wrong. It is so easy to shift into auto-pilot, to assume that the Valentine’s Day card you got will definitely hold them over until their birthday. It takes real effort to consistently remind them that you feel that way. Being married isn't enough. It's that morning kiss, that afternoon text, that Wednesday bubble tea, and that random love letter [4]. Do the things that make each other feel special, over and over again. It never gets old. And if it does, change it up. It takes work.
Kids change everything. That may seem obvious or hyperbolic depending on your existing beliefs. But it's astonishing how true it has been for us. Kids amplify all your insecurities and concerns, which can put a unique strain on your relationship. Do you worry about money? Prepare for the "berry phase". Are you a clean freak? Prepare for some exposure therapy. But more than any specific thing, kids bring perspective. You care about this little human more than you thought was possible, even more than your spouse [5]. You give them your time, attention, and energy — the portion you would’ve given your spouse. This warrants a post on its own, so I'll end this by saying kids are the best thing in life. And having someone you love to experience life with is a close second.
[1] This does not mean you should optimize for marrying someone of the same ethnicity. But I do want to acknowledge that it makes many aspects of marriage "easier". There are rituals, traditions, and unspoken rules that you take for granted. Some may scoff at that. And that's fine. But it turned out to be very true for me. And as someone who grew up not having an Asian classmate until I was 14, this was quite surprising to me.
[2] I once heard “don’t go to bed angry”. In theory, I think this is a good principle. In practice, it can be difficult depending on the nature of the fight. Sometimes you hit a nerve that goes deep. It takes time to forgive. And you can’t speed it up. So you might not go to bed angry, but you won’t be happy. The important thing is that you have enough to self-heal.
[3] I use the word "dumb" quite sarcastically. It was one of the best experiences in my life. I formed one of my best friendships. And the difficulty of that experience shaped me and my marriage for years to come. I owe a lot to that "dumb" decision.
[4] I realize there are defined love languages. I'm sure they are helpful. But I would also say that people are multilingual. And that you shouldn't over rely on one. It turns out you have to actually put in effort for someone to realize you care.
[5] This depends on the person. I remember talking to a friend who said they would save their spouse instead of their kid if presented with the choice. Their spouse felt the same. Their rationale was that they chose each other and could always have another kid. While I personally disagree, I found it an illuminating point of view. It challenged something I thought was so universal, and made me (productively) question other assumptions I held.