The new couple

How AIDS, job instability, and
divorce have turned marriage into
the security blanket of the '90s

by David Andrew Stoler

Art students live downstairs, 22-year-olds. They are liberal, hair-dyeing dope smokers whose raging, all-naked parties spill out into the hallways. Their music blasts through my floor; they leave strange, mostly pornographic sculptures in the foyer. Two words describe them best: Great neighbors.

One odd thing, though, one single anomaly in their otherwise completely consistent characters: They are married. Have been for a year and a half.

They have no idea where they will be next year, nor what kind of income they'll earn. They have enough trouble paying their rent now -- and keeping up with their classwork, for that matter. They are young and vibrant and beautiful. But they have pledged to spend the rest of their lives together, in emotional and physical monogamy.

What's more, my neighbors are not alone. They are part of an increasing number of young couples who are slowly reversing a decades-old marital trend that says one should find personal security and fulfillment before "settling down" with spouse and dog to raise a family.

While the average age of people marrying rose steadily from 1947 to 1992 and then leveled off, the trend now seems to indicate a downward slope. For the first time since 1953, the age of first-time brides has not risen during the last four years. Instead, it remains around 24 years. The groom's average age is 26, the lowest it has been since 1988, when it was 24.

Why do these numbers sit so strange with me? Why is it so hard to envision my neighbors slipping gold bands over each other's painted fingernails, looking into each other's eyes, and nuzzling noses in that gross couple way while pledging their unending love?

Well, first of all, they mock every other society-based structure and revel in at least artistic abstraction. I try to shift my paradigm somewhat, try to reconsider: "Okay, I can see it a little bit better now," I tell them, expounding on my vision of their wedding. "You are getting married. You are in Vegas. All the guests are in drag. Elvis is presiding."

I mean this in all earnestness, but they simply laugh and assure me that their wedding was standard formula -- tuxedos, flowers, best man, vows, everything straight up like on television.

"Something, some one thing, must have been strange, out of the ordinary, laughing in the face of tradition or asserting your youth, your insecurity, your liberalism, your difference!" I say.

"Dave," they reply, "we decided we wanted to get married. We love each other. We got married. It's pretty simple."

Apparently, that's it. In fact, the strangest thing that happened at their wedding didn't happen at their wedding, but the night before at the house they'd rented for six of their friends. Seems the friends were divided into two camps -- high school friends versus college friends, and they fought philosophy until 4 in the morning when, battered and bruised and hating each other, they finally went to bed. Next morning, the friends awoke to find one towel in the house. A riot ensued.

The only straight dope I can come up with on this marriage phenomenon is that everyone (except me) is doing it, and even I have moved in with my girlfriend. Though by no means hip, committing -- be it by marriage or by "shacking up"-- is in. Gone are the days of the selfish 20s.

The factors behind this increasingly committal behavior are, simply, the factors that have surrounded us during the last eight years, our formative years: AIDS, divorce, and our perception of the New Job Market as increasingly hostile.

It's nice, then, to have one important thing taken care of. Marriage is, in some ways, the security blanket of the '90s. I might not have the same job next year or any job, for that matter. But I know one thing: I will have the same mate.

Under this way of thinking, the "other" in the couple begins to play an increasing role of support and structure. This, in turn, strengthens the relationship and the importance of that relationship in one's life. The couple becomes closer, and the space for support and structure increases. Cycle, cycle, ad infinitum, and what you get are strong young couples with ever-increasing importance in each other's lives.

The New Job Market

Once you needed only a shiny college diploma to be guaranteed a good job, but that shine has dulled of late. The job market has been flooded with degree-waving 22-year-olds who are all pretty qualified, but the jobs just aren't there. People who have been in the workforce for a while and all of us recent graduates are in an ugly sort of scrum. We're all competing for the few decent (or even slightly lame) jobs that are out there.

More people, more competition, less opportunity. In truth, this may be only our perception, but perception is the only thing that matters in psychological reaction. If the job market seems to hold less opportunity for us, we react to it as such.

Remember, we grew up during the relentless downsizing and cutbacks of the late '80s. So the idea that you get hired by a company out of college and then work your way up that company's ladder until, after 20 years, you become a senior partner seems outdated and a bit silly.

Today, the jobs that we do get we don't envision having for more than a few years. Forget the rest of our lives. Twenty-somethings are living without any sense of post-annum job security, and we feel like the first generation in a long time without it. We are not where we are going to be, and, frankly, we have no idea where we might be headed.

On one hand, this is a pretty exciting prospect -- You know, whole lives of potential ahead of us and all that. But on the inevitable other, the void of the future is an intimidating, downright scary one.

The New Sexuality

The other, probably more potent, cause for the shift in relationship tendencies is AIDS. We are the first generation to have grown up with AIDS and sex linked together from the very beginning. Rock had AIDS before we had sex, or even knew what sex was.

Mr. Degenhart schooled my seventh-grade sex ed. class on AIDS in between sections on self-exploration and the secondary characteristics that would soon make our lives miserable. AIDS remained at the forefront of every health class lesson in high school and every sex and sexuality discussion in college.

It is, certainly, the dominating theme of our sexuality, and it is the only sexuality that we know. Teachers, politicians, parents, and celebs have taught us, over and over again, that promiscuity leads to HIV, HIV leads to AIDS, and AIDS leads to death. Simple. The only way to be safe is to be monogamous. Thank you, Dr. Koop.

Well, teach a generation something, and don't be surprised when it learns. Since not too many of us youngsters are on the abstinence trip, more and more of us are turning to the only sex that ain't gonna kill us -- the single lovin' partner kind.

Peter, a previous neighbor, is as good an example of this as anyone. Peter is a musician (again not your typically settled-down, conservative demographic.) He is a rock god who has golden vocal chords and an ear for pop. He also has some serious firsthand knowledge of AIDS. Peter's father suffered and died of AIDS when Peter was in high school.

Peter loved his dad -- loves his dad -- and learned a lot from him. It did not take many conversations with Peter for me to learn how much he needed to be in a strong, trusting, and completely monogamous relationship.

When I first met Peter, he, at age 18, had been with his girlfriend for two years. I was shocked when he told me, "I want to be with her for the rest of my life." He told me that again last week, more than five years later.

Peter learned about AIDS in a tough way, and you can bet he paid close attention in his high school health classes. His steady relationship with his girlfriend not only lets him sleep easy about AIDS, but it provides a rock of structure and support in a life that provides little. Whatever else, Peter's girlfriend loves him.

The New Couple

There is one other phatty of a factor that scares us silly -- divorce. Like the generation preceding us, we are scared out of our wits of the divorce so rampant in American society. We, too, have seen the chaos and havoc that it reeks on the lives of people. We, too, are the children caught in between.

Unlike the 20-somethings of five or 10 years ago, however, we are not too scared to see the benefits of a solid partner. Instead, marriage and the fear of divorce have kind of fused together and evolved into something different: the New Couple.

In most cases, our fear manifests itself not in marriage, but in an individual's increased willingness to commit to long-term, monogamous relationships that are usually reserved for the middle-aged. More young people are in relationships that mean more to them. More important, more young couples are choosing to live together.

Living together is marriage with a viable escape clause. We intertwine our independent lives and glean all of the benefits of marriage. We get love, structure, support, and a strong sense of foundation. And all of this without the fear of a messy divorce tearing through our peaceable kingdoms.

Of course, both young marriages and living together present us with problems and concerns that older couples have not necessarily had to deal with. We bring a whole new set of presumptions and ideologies to the table, and these make for some pretty interesting speed bumps.

Some are relatively benign. When my girlfriend told her parents we were moving in together, they called a couple of times just to confirm that this did not mean we were getting married. It's not that they don't like me. (They do. Lots.) It's more that they are ex-hippies who firmly believe in their daughter's right to kick some white male booty on the career path, and they do not want this opportunity derailed by some white male.

The more malignant speed bumps stem from the whole job-security thing, which, as stated above, is partly responsible for the New Couple in the first place. Although marriage and coupledom offer a sense of security at home, someone's needs outside the home are, at some point, likely to be sacrificed for their other half.

Case in point: Seth and Lortis. Seth and Lortis got together in school, when Seth was a sophomore and Lortis a junior. When Lortis graduated, she chose to get her teaching degree at a school in Boston so that she could be close to Seth, who had a year left here in Providence.

When he graduated, they decided they would move somewhere together and that it made sense to get married, too. After the wedding, they decided that, instead of arbitrarily picking a place to move, they'd see where their prospects lay. Seth was the first to get a job -- in New Mexico -- and off they went.

A couple of things happened down there. First, Lortis, who figured she could get a job teaching anywhere, couldn't. Already she was unhappy. Then Seth decided he wanted to go to grad school in a year, so now Lortis really couldn't get a good job. No school wants to hire a teacher who's gonna bolt in a year.

Though happy to be married to Seth and to have his support and security and structure, things weren't great for our heroine career-wise.

Fast-forward. Seth is in grad. school at Berkeley for at least five years, and Lortis is psyched because she can commit to a school, one closer to her native LA. But Seth is beginning to pine again for the East Coast. When his five years are up, I'll be interested to see what they do and what strain their decision will put on each of them.

Twenty-something is a mobile age. Hell, my girlfriend wants to blow to Ecuador come the fall. But although one member of a couple may feel fine about going where the other needs to, it's inevitably a tough gig. I cringe when someone implies that I might be "following" my girlfriend. ("Hell no," I reply. "I'm a writer looking for experiences wherever they might be!" Besides, I add meekly, "I can write anywhere.") Self-determination at 22 is key. There's no getting around that. Still, self-determination can cause havoc on a relationship, married or otherwise.

But long-distance relationships suck, and relationships generally don't. The New Couple is inviting. Monogamy never has been as, well, necessary as it is now; job security never so distant. Prospects are scary, so we pool our resources for some, perhaps misguided, sense of security. No AIDS, some stability, maybe an occasional naked party. Facing an always uncertain future, we can't ask for much more.