Dating as a millennial isn't easy. The lack of communication and definition in our rituals creates unrealistic expectations that are seemingly impossible to reach. We have this amazing ability to be in constant contact over text, Snapchat, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. We are never not interacting with someone. So, it stands to reason that when we find someone that we really like to interact with, a lot of our virtual time is spent focused on them. This vast amount of conversation is the stage that we refer to as "talking." Are you dating? No, we are talking. Are you official? No, we are talking. The talking stage has no clear end. Even after millennials make the leap from talking to exclusive, there is still a question as to the title to place on your significant other.
After my boyfriend and I painstakingly navigated the delirium that is dating as a millennial, we reached a place of comfort. We agreed that we liked doing life together, and we wanted the world to know. So we slapped a title on it, and now we finally have someone to brag about to our families. What I didn't expect, was the entirely new level of complication this brings. We finally have a firm grasp on our relationship, and now we are starting the complicated process of integrating each other into our separate worlds. It's time to meet the family.
The entire concept is nerve wracking. While I was fortunate enough to know his family before we became boyfriend/girlfriend, I realized it was now time to be vetted by all of the important people in his life. All of a sudden, I have to meet the parents, and the idolized older brother. As perfect for him as I may be, there's only one problem. As a millennial, I've lost the ability to effectively be charming in an intimate conversational setting.
I can write, I can text, and I'm eloquent when it comes to my MacBook key board, but talking to his parents over a nice dinner seemed nearly impossible. Of course, I did my best, and I'm sure they appreciated the effort, but I couldn't help but to notice the ease with which they glided in and out of topic. Like the tides, they danced around subjects, left room for me to comment and answer questions, and when they gave me a chance to take the lead -- I choked. When tasked with communicating with a different generation, I struggled.
This problem is novel and archaic at the same time. While every generation has struggled to communicate with those of generations past, never before has a generation spoken such a completely different style of language as millennials and their parents. As I struggle to bridge this gap for the sake of my relationship, I'm struck with the notion that it's only going to become more difficult from here. I'm going to have to interview effectively to jobs. I'm going to have to market myself and brands I represent to several generations at once. In such a connected world, I can't stunt myself by relying solely on social media for communication. Through these awkward interactions, I am going to have to adapt.
