The Blob

The 20-somethings of the world are establishing a trend. Instead of dating, they're blobbing. The older generation, happily married 25+ years, can't understand it. Grandparents certainly can't understand it. I don't even think 20-somethings understand it, but they surrender to it anyway.

The blob is a mass of people that intend to remain "just friends" until death do we part. Almost every one of those people, if cornered, would admit to wanting love and marriage {note: this does not make them desperate}. I call it 'the blob' because it follows you and sucks you in until you disappear inside it and make it just a bit bigger and more powerful than it was before.

It seems to me that most people want to be married but feel strange admitting it outright. Instead, we go in secret to the privacy of our computers and become one of 20 million people per month that try online dating in hopes of finding that special someone. After a date with Chainmail Guy and the dude in metallic spandex, Comb-over Man arrives wearing chinos and a tucked-in polo...only to reveal he's been in college for 12 years and lives with Mom. With no luck in love, we return to the blob so we can at the very least enjoy our weekends once more.

blob.

The blob is fun and easy. It requires very little of us, and everyone gets a half-hearted version of what they truly want. I guess that's worth it. Guys don't have to commit or risk rejection, and girls get companionship...sort of.

I promised myself I would not tell this story to anyone, but as it turns out, I've already told 342 people so I might as well make it available on the world wide web. It's a story about a gutsy guy who made me swoon in less than nine seconds. Why? Because he knew what he wanted and went and got it. That makes a woman out of a girl.

I had just finished working the registration table for an event we were holding in Washington DC. I was a bit frazzled and standing in between two of our Directors. Both men. This strapping young lad left the reception, walked right up to me and after looking at my nametag, asked if that was my real name. I was not in the mood for whatever this was. Of course it was my real name, and I told him so. Then he told me that he asked because he simply had to know my name. Call it cheesy, but how many of you fellas would actually have the guts to do it? Needless to say, my mood changed -- for the rest of the week. The following details are irrelevant to the topic, but whether or not I see him again, he will always remain an icon of sorts.

Now I know that men are capable of this. I'm quite certain I didn't dream that up. I was beginning to wonder if what everyone said was true: if I didn't give a guy googly eyes, bake him cookies twice a week and offer him my heart and soul on a silver platter, I'd be lucky to receive a nod in my general direction.

This post was not to draw any conclusions; it was simply to stir the pot. And to the dear friends in my own blob, I love each of you and can't wait to encourage every one of you to make your move.