You may be like me: between the ages of 25 and 39, single, a college-educated city dweller. If so, you may have also had the unpleasant experience of discovering that you have been identified (by the U.S. Census Bureau, no less) as one of the fastest-growing groups in America -- the ''never marrieds.'' In less than 30 years, the number of never-marrieds has more than doubled, apparently pushing back the median age of marriage to the oldest it has been in our country's history -- about 25 years for women and 27 for men.
As if the connotation of ''never married'' weren't negative enough, the vilification of our group has been swift and shrill. These statistics prove a ''titanic loss of family values,'' according to The Washington Times. An article in Time magazine asked whether ''picky'' women were ''denying themselves and society the benefits of marriage'' and in the process kicking off ''an outbreak of 'Sex and the City' promiscuity.'' In a study on marriage conducted at Rutgers University, researchers say the ''social glue'' of the family is at stake, adding ominously that ''crime rates . . . are highly correlated with a large percentage of unmarried young males.''
Although I never planned it, I can tell you how I became a never-married. Thirteen years ago, I moved to San Francisco for what I assumed was a brief transition period between college and marriage. The problem was, I wasn't just looking for an appropriate spouse. To use the language of the Rutgers researchers, I was ''soul-mate searching.'' Like 94 percent of never-marrieds from 20 to 29, I, too, agree with the statement ''When you marry, you want your spouse to be your soul mate first and foremost.'' This über-romantic view is something new. In a 1965 survey, fully three out of four college women said they'd marry a man they didn't love if he fit their criteria in every other way. I discovered along with my friends that finding that soul mate wasn't easy. Girlfriends came and went, as did jobs and apartments. The constant in my life -- by default, not by plan -- became a loose group of friends. After a few years, that group's membership and routines began to solidify. We met weekly for dinner at a neighborhood restaurant. We traveled together, moved one another's furniture, painted one another's apartments, cheered one another on at sporting events and open-mike nights. One day I discovered that the transition period I thought I was living wasn't a transition period at all. Something real and important had grown there. I belonged to an urban tribe.
Read the rest: The New York Times
Thanks to Daliana S. for sharing!
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