The New Yorker:

Long the province of the ultra-wealthy, prenuptial agreements are being embraced by young people—including many who don’t have all that much to divvy up.

By Jennifer Wilson

Andrea Zevallos declared 2016 her “year of dating.” She was twenty-seven, working at Universal Studios Hollywood, the theme park, and determined to find love. She calculated it would take three dates a week. By December, she was losing hope. “It was exhausting,” she said. Then, while scrolling OkCupid, she noticed a “cute guy” with a “Hamilton” reference in his handle. His name was Alex Switzky, and like her he was a musical-theatre enthusiast and aspiring screenwriter. He was different from the other men she’d met. On their second date, he started planning a third. Zevallos “was used to L.A. guys cagey about any sort of calendar.” One day, Switzky called her. Accustomed to texts, she assumed that he was about to break up with her. “The most millennial response,” she recalled, laughing. At the time, Switzky was a tow-truck dispatcher. “I like the phone,” he said.

Five years later, Zevallos was enrolled in an M.F.A. program in screenwriting, and Switzky was working at Final Draft, a screenwriting-software company. One night, after watching “Ted Lasso” over a plate of tahini noodles, Switzky proposed. Zevallos said yes without hesitation, especially because they had already agreed to sign a prenuptial agreement if they married. “What if one of us gets lucky and sells a script?” she had pointed out. “Who would retain that I.P.?”

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