Years after an unexpected meeting in the sweeping greenery of Golden Gate Park, Kamila Staryga’s future husband proposed to her, asking the traditional question that marks the beginning of a lifelong partnership. She accepted without hesitation. Some time later, another query arose—one far less romantic yet equally consequential: would she agree to a prenuptial agreement? Rather than taking offense, Staryga, who leads the reproductive health startup Rita Health, regarded the suggestion with pragmatic calm. As a founder deeply enmeshed in the demanding world of business, she is familiar with the complex web of legal frameworks that underpin risk and responsibility. Protecting one’s interests, she explained, is not a reflection of cynicism but of foresight. “You don’t write a contract for the good times,” she said with the clarity of experience. “You write them for the moments when things don’t go as planned.” In her marriage, as in her company, she understands that stability often depends on preparation.
The assets at stake for Staryga and her husband extend well beyond ordinary bank accounts. Her spouse is employed at one of the most influential companies in the field of artificial intelligence—a world where equity and innovation are often intertwined. Both partners are compensated partly in stock options, yet the character of those holdings diverges dramatically. Her shares represent a venture into an uncertain but potentially transformative future, while his are already immensely valuable, akin to holding a winning lottery ticket. Their financial lives are thus interlaced with risk, potential, and responsibility—precisely the terrain where prenups increasingly find relevance.
Though prenuptial agreements once belonged to the category of conversations everyone wished to avoid—alongside death and taxes—they are now enjoying unprecedented attention. Surveys reveal that a growing number of couples are approaching marriage with legal and financial prudence. Across social platforms such as TikTok, attorneys and financial influencers have recast prenups as instruments not of mistrust but of sound wealth planning. When celebrity couples like Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce dominate headlines, the public dissects the possible mechanics of their hypothetical prenups as if they were analyzing sports drafts. According to family law experts such as Monica Mazzei of Buchalter, this fascination with celebrity arrangements—popularly dubbed “the Kardashian effect”—has helped normalize the concept. Another specialist, Susan Scherman, offers a more somber interpretation: millennials and members of Gen Z, raised with the sobering statistics of divorce, enter marriage with tempered idealism, thinking, “The odds may not be in our favor, so we should structure the best partnership we can.”
Empirical data confirms this cultural transformation. Fifteen years ago, a Harris Poll conducted among 2,000 married or engaged American adults found that a mere 3 percent had signed a prenuptial agreement. When the survey was repeated in 2023, that figure soared to roughly 20 percent, with even higher adoption rates among younger generations—47 percent among millennials and 41 percent among Gen Z participants. These trends mirror a broader shift in how younger Americans conceive of marriage itself. Many of them were children during the divorce-heavy decades of the 1980s and 1990s, witnessing firsthand the emotional and financial toll of separation. Consequently, they tend to marry later, often after establishing careers, purchasing homes, and acquiring assets that hold both tangible and symbolic value—from cryptocurrencies and social media accounts to digital art and frozen embryos. Their approach to matrimony is practical: they seek emotional connection without abandoning financial self-protection.
Technology has also simplified what was once a cumbersome process. Kamila Staryga and her husband turned to a digital service called First—a platform functioning much like TurboTax, but for prenups. It guided them step by step through online questionnaires, automatically generating drafts for subsequent legal review. Basic packages start at $599, and the company, fortified by $4.3 million in venture capital, is expanding to meet growing demand. For Staryga, who navigates contracts and digital workflows daily, this approach felt entirely natural. “We bought our Tesla online,” she mused. “Why shouldn’t we get our prenup the same way?” Her remark encapsulates the ethos of an on-demand generation accustomed to efficiency.
Although historically associated with the ultrarich—often initiated by protective parents to safeguard inherited wealth—prenups are now spreading across socioeconomic boundaries. One attorney recalls a photographer whose every contractual clause was managed under parental supervision due to a massive inheritance. Family law partner Lois Liberman colloquially categorizes such individuals as members of “the lucky sperm club.” While generational wealth remains a factor, lawyers in thriving cities like New York and San Francisco observe a rapid rise among self-made professionals. Bolstered by robust real estate and stock markets, they are building wealth more swiftly than predecessors and see prenups not as symbols of distrust but of responsibility.
Hard data about prenuptial usage remains limited because no centralized registry exists, a point noted by law professor Elizabeth Carter of Louisiana State University. Her research, however, indicates that the surge reflects not only the growing scale of assets but also a fundamental change in who is earning them. Women now occupy the role of primary breadwinner more frequently than at any other point in history. They own property, attain advanced degrees, and lead teams. In this context, the prenup—once a shield for dynastic families—has evolved into a mutual safeguard for dual-income partnerships. Increasingly, it is women who are initiating the conversation.
Consider Kate Winick, a social media director who married in her mid-thirties after years of diligent savings through a career in media and at Peloton. Determined to preserve the financial independence she had earned, she and her fiancé hired a mediator, followed by separate lawyers, to craft an agreement that prioritized fairness over advantage. Her goal, she explained, was simple: to ensure that both partners would emerge whole, regardless of circumstances. Their approach exemplifies the modern view of prenuptial agreements as tools of empathy as much as equity.
Within industries like technology and finance, prenup lawyers are now as commonplace as accountants—often recommended by colleagues before engagement parties have even taken place. San Francisco attorney Monica Mazzei recalls a Google employee referring to her inclusion on “the list” of sought-after specialists. This reflects a corporate culture in which compensation packages heavily weighted toward equity necessitate foresight. As legal partner Michael Calogero notes, startup professionals often earn limited salaries while gambling on stock options that could one day yield life-changing gains. A prenup thus serves as both shield and strategy.
These contracts are not reserved solely for those with grand fortunes. Rachel-Jean Firchau, a thirty-two-year-old who relocated to Australia, suggested a prenup to her fiancé after years as the household’s principal earner in advertising sales. As she prepared to leave her job to pursue her travel and lifestyle blog full time—a project supported by a growing online following—she sought to delineate ownership clearly. The couple, pressed for time amid wedding preparations, completed the paperwork through First over takeout meals, finalizing their signatures via a video notary in their small apartment. Their agreement firmly established that her brand’s intellectual property would remain hers in the event of divorce. Firchau summarized her reasoning succinctly: “You can’t handshake your way into a marriage and expect that to protect you.”
Modern prenups now extend well beyond traditional financial boundaries. Couples identify not only tangible property but also digital and emotional assets worthy of protection. Attorneys increasingly encounter clauses addressing everything from pets—and their lucrative social media accounts—to sneakers, handbags, video game inventories, patents, and crypto art. Libby Leffler, founder and CEO of First, testifies that she has seen nearly every possible item catalogued as valuable. In addition, lawyers like Mazzei now routinely include embryos in asset questionnaires, recognizing how often couples create them before marriage. Still, certain issues—like custody and child support—remain outside the jurisdiction of prenuptial control and are later decided by courts under child welfare standards.
Once assets are outlined, many partners proceed to define conduct through behavioral clauses. The most controversial among these is the infidelity clause, which specifies what constitutes cheating and delineates corresponding penalties. Platforms such as HelloPrenup, which generates tens of thousands of agreements annually, report that roughly one-third of users include such provisions, with average penalties around $165,000. Though this trend fascinates clients, many lawyers remain skeptical, citing difficulties in proof and inconsistent enforceability. Only a few states recognize these clauses, and even where permitted, the language must be exceptionally precise—especially within non-monogamous or open relationships. Julia Rodgers, founder of HelloPrenup, notes that some arrangements read more like personal profiles on dating apps than traditional legal documents.
The cultural perception of prenups has changed so drastically that what once inspired shock or dismay has become an emblem of mutual respect. The author herself recalls suggesting a prenup years ago to her then-fiancé, who misinterpreted the idea as a prelude to divorce. His unease reflected a previous era’s instinctive association of such contracts with distrust. Today, the process looks distinctly different: instead of a sterile lawyer’s office, many couples complete their agreements in front of laptops at home, guided by friendly software that transforms uncomfortable questions into thoughtful dialogues about values, fairness, and the future.
This modern sensibility resonates with couples like Winick and her husband, who view their prenup not as a hedge against love but as an act of protection for their future selves. Cognizant of how stress or hardship can distort behavior, they designed their agreement so that their most generous and rational selves set the terms for days when emotions might run high. In that sense, a prenup is less a barrier than a promise—an affirmation that love, when grounded in transparency and foresight, is resilient enough to withstand the unexpected.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/should-you-get-prenup-women-assets-stock-options-2025-11
