Utah’s refined marriage rate hit 51.7 per 1,000 unmarried women in 2024, more than double the national average of 31.2, according to a new family profile from Bowling Green State University’s National Center for Family and Marriage Research. At the opposite end sits Delaware, where the rate was just 20.1 per 1,000. Report author Krista Westrick-Payne found the overall U.S. rate “remained stable” year over year, with just over 2.3 million women marrying nationwide.
The Regional Split Is Stark, Not Subtle
The West and Midwest dominate the top of the list. According to BGSU’s data, 38 percent of Western states landed in the top quartile of marriage rates nationally. The Northeast is the mirror opposite: 78 percent of its states fell into the bottom quartile, and not a single Northeastern state cracked the top half of the rankings.
The “refined” part of the refined marriage rate matters here. Rather than counting marriages against a state’s total population, the measure counts new marriages specifically against the population of unmarried women of reproductive age — a more precise way to isolate how likely someone actually eligible to marry is to do so in a given state.

A Second Data Set Backs the Pattern Up
Utah’s lead isn’t an artifact of one methodology. USAFacts, using a different calculation based on total population, also found Utah in first place nationally, with 24.5 new marriages per 1,000 residents in 2024 — ahead of Washington, D.C. at 22.1 and Idaho at 21.2.
USAFacts’ data adds another layer: Utah women marry at a median age of 25.2 and men at 27.2, among the youngest marrying ages in the nation. Compare that to Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New Hampshire, where men’s median marriage age reaches 32.4.
What’s Actually Driving the Gap
Neither report pins the difference on a single cause: religious demographics that favor earlier marriage in parts of the Mountain West, higher costs of living and later financial independence in Northeastern cities, and cultural norms around marriage timing all play a role. This isn’t Utah edging out Delaware by a few percentage points — it’s a state where marrying young and marrying often is still the cultural default.
Delaware’s low rate likely reflects something different again from a simple cultural aversion to marriage — a small, dense state within easy driving distance of Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey, where residents may marry in a neighboring state without it ever showing up in Delaware’s own count, alongside the same later-marriage patterns pulling down its Mid-Atlantic neighbors more broadly. That cross-border effect is a known limitation of state-level marriage-rate data generally, since marriage records are tied to where the license was issued, not necessarily where either partner actually lives.
What the data does settle is the scale of the gap, however you slice the methodology. Two independently constructed data sets, using different denominators and different source records, arrive at the same conclusion: Utah isn’t marginally ahead of the rest of the country on marriage rate, it’s operating in a different tier entirely, with a state at the bottom of the list that looks like it’s measuring a fundamentally different relationship to the institution.
Whether that gap narrows or widens in coming years likely depends on the same broader forces reshaping marriage nationally — housing costs, delayed financial independence, and shifting generational attitudes toward the institution itself. For now, the state-by-state data offers one of the clearest reminders that “the national marriage rate” is really an average of dozens of very different regional stories, some moving in opposite directions at the same time.
For anyone reading their own state’s marriage rate against Utah’s or Delaware’s, the more useful comparison is usually to a state’s own history rather than to the extremes at either end of the ranking. A rate that’s climbed or fallen relative to where it sat five or ten years ago in the same state tends to say more about local economic and demographic shifts than a single-year comparison against a state with a fundamentally different marriage culture ever could, since Utah and Delaware were never really playing by the same rules to begin with. Tracked over time within a single state, the refined marriage rate becomes a genuinely useful barometer for how local economic confidence and generational attitudes are shifting, in a way a single year’s snapshot never quite captures on its own.

