Bridal Vows Revisited

By Francine Russo

Forever began for Kelly and Mike of Baton Rouge, La., a year ago, when they wed in a covenant marriage. But for New Yorkers Adam and Cindy (not their real names), forever won't come for 18 years after their wedding day last month--if then. That's the point at which their legally binding prenuptial agreement self-destructs.

These are just two modern variations on the old-fashioned notion of partners for life. They may be hard for the parents of the two couples and others of their generation to understand. When early boomers and those who came before them marched down the aisle, most assumed their marriage would last; that was the bargain. Whether that ultimately happened or not, today's parents of marriage-age young adults want to see their offspring married happily and long. Many say they are frustrated by how long it's taking their kids to "settle down"--or that they are puzzled by the forms modern partnerships are taking.

So let's put this in context: today's young adults, who grew up amid the debris of an older generation's failed relationships (between the mid-'60s and 1981, the divorce rate more than doubled), are wrestling with the very notion of forever in marriage and finding it unattainable or even suspect. Young couples have not trashed the idea of lifetime partners. Instead, they are creating their own models.

At one end of the spectrum are long-term cohabiting couples who don't want to marry at all. At the opposite end are couples in Louisiana and Arizona, the two states that offer covenant marriages, who have opted to back up their marriage vows with tougher, legally mandated divorce standards. In between are lovers at every point on the continuum, from those who live together briefly before marriage as a test of compatibility to those who wed only after long and searching courtships. Many of these are strategies to avoid divorce, says David Popenoe, professor of sociology and co-director of the National Marriage Project at Rutgers University.

Divorce, however, is not the only factor, says Philip Cowan, a director of the Council for Contemporary Families. "It's the prospect of many of the lifeless long-term marriages they grew up with," says the psychologist, who with his wife Carolyn Pape Cowan--both at the University of California, Berkeley--has followed more than 200 families for 10 to 20 years.

The good news is that most young men and women still hope for a lasting love. They're just struggling with the best way to get there. Here are some of the options:

COVENANT MARRIAGE: LOCK IN FOREVER, AND THROW AWAY THE KEY

"With a covenant marriage, you eliminate the option of walking out from a mind-set point of view," explains Mike Johnson of Baton Rouge. Mike, a 27-year-old attorney, wed Kelly, a 26-year-old teacher, a year ago in a covenant pact. "We're saying, 'Let's not do marriage lite,'" says Mike. At which point Kelly interposes, "It's marriage heavy."

The couple are among the less than 4% of Louisiana's newlyweds who have opted for the state's two-year-old covenant marriage--an idea considered last year by 19 other states, all of which, except Arizona, voted it down. Louisiana's covenant union differs from the standard one by requiring premarital counseling and, for divorce (absent grievous fault), two years of living apart plus mandated marital counseling. "The desire was to make marriage more committed," says Louisiana State University law professor Katherine Spaht, who wrote the legislation.

Mike, a Methodist from a divorced family, and Kelly, a Southern Baptist from an intact family, each had had serious relationships--and painful breakups. Both wanted this supercommitment. "I know we live in a tough world," Kelly acknowledges, "but, hey, we're in this for the long haul." Their way of thinking is typical of covenant couples, says Steven Nock, a professor of sociology at the University of Virginia who's doing a five-year study comparing Louisiana covenant-marriage couples with the norm. Already, he has noted a divide in their thinking about time: noncovenant couples, he observes, are focused mostly on the present and what they're getting now. Covenant spouses are more apt to look to the future for their best times.

Even in their primarily Christian community, Mike and Kelly say that less than a quarter of their friends have done covenants. "Guys say to me," the young attorney notes sadly, "'Mike, I get it. I'm just not ready for that kind of commitment'--days before they walk down the aisle."

THE LONG, LONG COURTSHIP: GETTING A JUMP ON FOREVER

Marcia and Russ Mangiapane, of Lavonia, Mich., both veterans of awful relationships, wanted to be as certain as possible that when they pledged "till death do us part," they had a fighting chance at success. The cosmetologist, 32, and sales executive, 35, dated for three years and were engaged for two more years. "We were skeptical because there's so much lack of faithfulness and trust and commitment," says Marcia. When they finally decided to wed, she says, "we did feel it would be forever. We had everything in common--skiing and Rollerblading and food and pets--and we're both very spiritual, though he's Italian and I'm Jewish."

Still, as a child of divorce, Marcia confesses, if things went bad, "it would be a piece of cake for me to say, 'See ya.'" Then, within months of their marriage four years ago, Marcia experienced a series of losses: her father, her mother and her best friend. "Russ didn't know how to react," she says. "I felt abandoned, and we thought we were getting divorced."

Her feelings were not surprising, says Carolyn Cowan. "We find that if they were not exposed to couple relationships where the partners worked out their differences satisfactorily, modern couples do not find it easy to struggle through the difficult times, or think of getting some help." Marcia and Russ did seek help, from Joe Bavonese of the Relationship Center in Royal Oak, Mich., and the pair emerged stronger. "We're newlyweds again!" Marcia crows. Now, more than when they took their vows, she believes in forever.

COHABITATION INSTEAD OF MARRIAGE: TAKING TINY STEPS TOWARD FOREVER

"I don't strive for permanence," declares Janna Cordiro, 30, a public-health educator in San Francisco. "That's the end. I'm more interested in the process: Will we make each other happy every day?" she says, laughing. "Obviously, you're not gonna make each other happy every day." Janna and her partner Sebastian Toomey, also 30 and a Web-page designer, had lived together for nine years when they recently moved from Atlanta to San Francisco--partly to take advantage of its domestic-partnership laws. They are among a growing number of heterosexual couples for whom cohabitation rather than marriage is their first live-in partnership. When Janna and Sebastian moved in together in college, both assumed the relationship would be temporary. For the first five or six years, they made short-term commitments based on circumstances: "'Until you finish college,' 'Until our lease is up,' 'Until grad school is over.'" They laugh when they recall how they've outlasted most of their friends' more "committed" relationships. Sebastian is convinced that their decision not to marry is part of the reason. "We think," he says, "How do I treat this person with respect now?, not How do I work out this problem? Because we gotta make this last forever."

The latest research shows that about 55% of cohabiting couples get married and about 40% break up within five years. Many of them do hope to last, though, say Marshall Miller and Dorian Solot, nine-year cohabitants who started the Boston-based Alternatives to Marriage Project to support couples who did not wish to marry or could not marry. Should a relationship be called a success, they ask, only when one partner dies? "In a culture where marriage is not assumed to be permanent," Solot argues, "it's important to celebrate the milestones along the way--like five years or 10. They're so much more precious." Janna, who's seen "a lot of negative marriages," doesn't want to marry. If they have children, the couple will take legal steps to protect them. Still, both hope they will just go on and on. After so many years of short-term commitments, what is their next phase? Sebastian replies, "The foreseeable future."

MARRIAGE WITH A PRENUP: 18 YEARS, THEN FOREVER STARTS

Adam and Cindy (who requested anonymity), an entrepreneur and a concert artist, both still in their 30s, married in May after dating for two years and living together for eight months. "We wanted to be sure we'd be happy together," he explains.

Sure is a relative term for Adam, who'd been divorced and had to part with a lot of money from his new business. So he asked Cindy to sign a prenup. "It took me a little while to get comfortable with the idea," says Cindy, who had never been married before. She accepted the logic of it but didn't tell her friends because she felt it was "too personal between us."

A prenup made sense, because Adam entered the marriage with significant financial assets. But, increasingly, lawyers are starting to write prenups for couples who have scarcely a dollar to their name--and school loans to pay back. Boston attorney Peter Zupcofska of Bingham Dana saw three such couples recently. "Two were fresh out of med school, and one out of law school," he recalls. Each wanted to protect a professional license from becoming joint property.

Adam and Cindy's agreement contains a "sunset clause," also called a "poison pill." Designed to prevent a difficult settlement if the marriage falls apart quickly, it disappears after a specified term of years, by which point the couple assume they're in it for keeps. Adam first proposed 25 years, but Cindy's lawyer objected. Adam's family suggested 18, because the Hebrew number 18, chai, means "life." "I just don't think about it," says Cindy. "I believe if you both give it 100% and just cherish it, you can work out your problems."

After all their care and preparation, how does Adam rate the probability of their marriage's lasting? "Truthfully," he admits, "I have no idea."