During my junior year at Stanford, I remember an assignment where we filled out a five-year plan with a professional and personal goal for each year. I planned to marry my then-fiancée that year, so my personal goals were straightforward: have a wedding and start having kids over the following years. I knew my situation in life relative to my classmates was unusual, but I didn’t realize how different my approach was until I shared my plan in a small group setting.
Out of the four or five students, only one other person mentioned anything related to dating or relationships, and that was to “start thinking about dating” four years out of college. They all described getting married as an objective for later and were surprised I would consider marrying so young. Shouldn’t I establish myself financially or professionally first, then seek a spouse?
In sociological research, this perspective is known as the “capstone” conception of marriage. Adherents see marriage as a culminating achievement sought after some time exploring sexually, establishing a financial base, and maturing. As the median age at which Americans get married for the first time has crept steadily upwards for the last 40 years—to almost 29 for women and just over 30 for men—this perspective has become the de facto norm.
While this seems like a reasonable approach, it comes with two major risks. First, it assumes that one can successfully get “established” before getting married. With soaring home prices, record student debt, persistent inflation, and a competitive job market, obtaining the independence or financial stability thought “necessary” may be perpetually out of reach for many individuals, particularly among the working class. Secondly, waiting until an indefinite later can force one’s hand when biological and social deadlines converge in the early 30s. One woman, interviewed by clinical psychologist Meg Jay for her book, The Defining Decade, described this convergence as “musical chairs”:
