Here's what they suggest: Say I want to have a kid or two sometime in my mid-30s (though I should probably try earlier since my fertility is already in decline). Well then, ideally, I'd be married by 31, so that I could enjoy some time with my partner before the total insanity of childrearing (which I'll likely be doing most of) takes over my relationship and threatens to ruin my marriage and career (if I still have one). To be married by 31, I really should have met my partner by now; I have to know him, fall in love and live with him to see if he's tolerable before getting engaged.

If I haven't yet, I'm pretty much screwed, according to this literature, since my stock will plummet by my mid-30s, and the men my age who are still single will want to date young chippies who don't ask for much more than a free martini and a meal. With my attractiveness in decline, I will have no one to date, and suddenly, of course, I'll realize that "there are no good men left"--which also means, of course, no chance of kids, unless I end up being one of the rare women with enough resources and guts to go it alone.

I want to ignore these narratives, but they've been so well beaten into my head that I can't. This causes me discomfort, shame and considerable self-loathing. I'm a feminist--a working, independent woman. Why have I bought into this idea of meticulously planning out my love life like it's work? Why, when I have been so happy on my own, do I worry my life will be miserable if I don't get married soon?

Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself. In one way or another, all facets of our culture reinforce the idea that marriage is part of maturity, an affirmation of femininity, a mark of success, a saving grace. And if one is inundated with this line of thinking basically since birth, it's a hard notion to shake, no matter how rational and self-conscious you are.

A big part of the message, too, is that marriage, and its half-sister, childrearing, are noble, necessary goals that bring a unique, unparalleled satisfaction to women's lives, a sense of worth and accomplishment that is different from, easier to come by and more dynamic than that achieved in the workplace. Susan Douglas and Meredith Michaels wrote wittily on this recently in their book The Mommy Myth, in which they explode media messages sent via celebrity moms that motherhood is a romantic, blissful calling filled with love, bunnies and gurgling infants. They don't deny that motherhood is a great thing to experience and participate in. But it's clear: Marriage and the domestic sphere should not be used as a fast-track to improving one's self-esteem.

Yet, given what their workplace is like, it makes sense that young women begin to consider homemaking and childrearing as desirable alternatives to their earlier career choices. Beyond starter and entry-level jobs, where women and men are on more equal footing, glass ceilings and wage inequalities still routinely appear. According to the Institute for Women's Policy Research, women employed full-time, year-round, earn only about 76 percent of what their male counterparts do. And--a factor as important as persistent economic disparities--women face greater obstacles than men in terms of being recognized for work well done in school or the office. As Anna Fels shows in her new book, Necessary Dreams: Ambition in Women's Changing Lives, after being passed over for promotion, denied credit for a well-executed project or being talked over by boys' and men's voices since preschool, young women are increasingly finding themselves running out of steam in their late 20s.

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