The M-word

I am a pretty easygoing guy, I think. Usually anyone can talk to me just about anything, even something borderline offensive, and I can just brush it off with no problem. But I swear, if one more person in this world asks me about the M-word, I will explode. 



The M-word is something that you will rarely hear me mention on a positive note. For those who have listened to my casual rants about life, and this culture specifically, have most likely heard my negative disposition for what is known in our world, as the M-word. I know you have Paige...

Can I get an amen from the congregation? Because I know there are countless handfuls of single residents applauding the way that I feel. All of you know what I am talking about… The nauseating, wretched persecution that we as non-committed people deal with day after day after day after day is pushing me to the point where I am about to declare myself single for life and tattoo it to my forehead so I don’t get any more stupid questions.



It is ridiculous that every time I call home, every time that I start up a conversation with someone, or every time that I talk to one of my aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, sisters, brothers-in-law, best buddies, baby nieces, puppies, or imaginary friends, the first thing they want to know is when they can be expecting a new member of the family, who my next lucky prospect is, or how soon I will be asking a blind date to wed. Um, yeah, I think I’m going to wait and make sure that she is a girl first….



Even if I am just formally introduced to someone brand new, the first question I am asked (after my name) goes something like this, “So, how’s the dating life, you have any prospects?” or “When can I expect an invitation coming along in the mail, eh?” or “You look like a fine young man, how come there isn’t a nice young woman attached to your arm?” Oh, I don’t know, probably because I’m not ready to get M-worded yet, and I’m not a Siamese twin either!



It is even more ridiculous when I have been out on a date with a girl more times than one, and I pull in at night after our second or third date, and my buddies automatically assume that I’m making plans for the M-word and start asking if she is "the one." And when she can be expecting some nice big rock on her finger. Not at least until I find out what her last name is, for crying out loud! Can’t you see I didn’t go to Jared?!



And that’s just the beginning of the entourage of irritation and persecution that I and many other unwed single adults are going through in this day and age. I can’t imagine what guys who are older than me are dealing with. I’m only 25 and am almost halfway pushed to be jumping off the Udvar-Hazy building. I have a single cousin who was pushing 30 when he got tied down, an uncle who lasted until 35, and it boggles my mind to think that they lasted that long with all the bullying and discrimination pressuring them from all angles. 



Why can’t people ask us different questions dealing with our lives? Why does every single stupid non-important conversation with anyone have to start out with something about the M-word? Why can’t they ask us questions like, “How’s school going down south?” or “What are your plans for the summer?” or “What type of doughnut would you say is your favorite?” Anything besides the infuriating inquiry about our unmarried existence is better. 



It’s not that I absolutely hate the M-word and am going to start a strike against M-word couples. I’m sure the M-word is an overall wonderful thing to be a part of and is something everybody should probably have the opportunity to enjoy at least once in their lives. It’s just that with a divorce rate above 50 percent in the country, I would like to take longer than 30 seconds to decide who my lifetime companion is going to be. 



I’m sure the first question that I am going to be asked from anybody after this blog comes out is when I am going to throw away my bachelor life and settle down with a nice, sweet young woman. It’s not going to make a difference if I keep trying to put up a fight against the M-word.

I’ll probably already be engaged by the time you get done reading this.