The honeymoon’s over. Now what?

There’s the daunting task of living life as a couple, real life, as in: he takes money out of the ATM and doesn’t tell her, while she leaves wet clothes in the washer.

Life with compromises on everything, from what to watch after Entertainment Tonight to agreeing what to hang on the walls as art.

Call these the adult version of the ‘tween years – when men and women are no longer single, but not yet parents. When they’ve moved out of the bridal magazine set, but aren’t quite ready for the backyard swing set.

With the average age of marriage creeping into the high 20s (and a good number of couples putting it off until their 30s) the ‘tween years can cause trepidation. Particularly when two people with their own careers, their own spending habits, and their own ideas of the perfect home life merge.

It used to be an ask-mom-if-you-have-any-questions stage of life. But chiefly because of the Internet, it has become a prime target for Web site chatter, advice books, and at least two new magazines – the Nest and Tango – offering young lovers how-to, don’t-ever, and oh-no-you-didn’t advice on making the heart grow fonder.

Leading the way is thenest.com, an interactive Web site for marriage newbies that grew out of its wedding-focused sister site, the Knot. With tips on housekeeping, finances, cooking, and dealing with in-laws, the Nest also traffics in discussion among thousands of devoted “nesties” every day.

“It’s a place people can give you an honest opinion on something without being judgmental or being too personal,” says Alexis Armstrong, 36, of Southwest Philadelphia, who has been a nestie for almost three years. “A girl recently posted under an anonymous name because she was having issues with her husband, and she didn’t want to discuss it with her family but she wanted some input.”

Armstrong is among many nesties who have grown so attached to their online buddies that they plan get-togethers several times a year.

“The last one I went to was in September or August in Ardmore,” Armstrong says. “There were about six of us, but I’ve been to some where 14 or 15 people show up.”

Katie Dugan, 29, of Bensalem, Pa., who has been married 14 months, says the Nest helped her decorate her house on a budget. And now that she and husband Jeremey have a son (Logan, born in July), she’s moved on to the parent discussion boards.

Stepping out of the cyber arena, the Nest recently published a book, “The Nest Newlywed Handbook,” and has started a quarterly magazine with a direct-mail circulation of about 400,000 featuring articles on topics such as buying a house online, dusting, and pets (known among nesties as “furbabies”).

“A lot of people getting married are relatively new to the concept of cohabitating,” says David Liu, chief executive officer of the Knot Inc., which he cofounded with his wife, Carley Roney, about a decade ago. “So the content of the magazine is driven by the message boards.”

Headlines in the latest issue ask, “How’s it hanging?” (about light fixtures) and “Who will win the chore wars?”

The other couples mag, Tango, has been on the stands since early 2005, and is the brainchild of Andrea Miller, a former financial analyst who lives in Manhattan.

Although she had no magazine experience, Miller says she decided the world needed a publication that was part “Sex and the City” and part “Oprah.”

With a circulation of about 200,000, Miller says her magazine targets “career-focused, economically empowered” women who “are seeking to build a life with somebody.”

Unlike glossies like Cosmo and Elle, Miller says Tango “is not so much about 59 ways to please your man, but about professional women saying I want a relationship on different terms.” Plus recipes and beauty tips.

Articles in recent issues have dealt with choosing not to have children, tension that arises when one partner makes more money than the other, and maintaining long-distance relationships.

There is also a column about commitment written by J. Courtney Sullivan, in which she says: “My friends and I seem to take dating a lot more seriously than our mothers did. Perhaps too seriously.”

Psychologist and relationship therapist Karen Sherman of New York says she thinks “committed couples” magazines will be successful because the market is big and very needy.

“Everybody still believes in marriage, and everybody wants to have a good marriage,” she says. “But because the divorce rate is at 50 percent… we now recognize that couples will benefit more from skills-based techniques, and these magazines offer articles geared that way.”

She said that, because many young adults were raised by divorced parents, they worry they may not be equipped to sustain a marriage or a committed relationship.

“There are skills you need, and nobody taught them,” Sherman says. “That’s why I think it’s become sort of a grass-roots movement, and big business.”

The Knot’s Liu says he isn’t up on all the psychological aspects of the newlywed market, but he knows it makes good business sense.

Women rarely subscribe to bridal magazines because they buy them off the rack, he says, which means publishers and advertisers have had a hard time targeting the newlyweds.

Yet, it’s a lucrative market. “When you get married, there’s a high probability that very soon you will apply for a mortgage, buy a home, and things for that home,” Liu says.

The prospect of reaching those customers makes advertisers salivate, Liu says. But in the past, organizations were lucky to accumulate enough marriage license information to target the market within eight months.

That changed with the Knot, Liu says, where users of the Web site register as members and provide their wedding date.

“We know who is in the newlywed demographic the day after their wedding,” Liu says. “And the audience turns over 100 percent every year. We can guarantee our advertisers that they are reaching a fresh group of people with an immediate purchasing need.”

For Dugan, Armstrong and other newlyweds, the economics are secondary. Safety in numbers and friendly advice is what’s key.

“When we got married, it was such a huge change,” Dugan says. “It was like, suddenly, ‘This is permanent.’ Sometimes you wonder, ‘Am I the only person who feels like this?'”