I went out on a date last night. A real date. A lot of the time I go out for dinner or drinks, and the guy thinks it’s a date, but it’s really not, and I’ve yet to figure out how to handle those situations gracefully. I usually smile the smile that says you’re quite lovely and nice, but I don’t think so bud. Usually, they get it. I think.

But last night was a date. I know it was, because we discussed it beforehand. As a Gen Y leader, that’s what you have to do. Your life is in the spotlight, much more, and in some ways, much less, than I would have ever imagined.

As such, dating is a dangerous ingredient to add to the work/life blender. Friends and work and business associates and drinks and family all mix quite nicely. But the moment dating comes into the mix, people get all crazy. Seriously. Many in our generation would prefer not to even talk about it. A foreign concept to me because that’s essentially all my best friend Belle and I discuss.

Belle and I also talk about our sisters and our jobs. We talk about how her mother has breast cancer. Again. We talk about our goals, and dreams, and what to wear on Friday night. But mostly we talk about our respective relationships. Because uh, it’s not like they doesn’t exist, and I have trouble ignoring things that are so basic and integral to our life.

Big Brother likes to keep such things hush-hush, and recommends that I don’t date anyone in my organization. An odd bit of advice, because our membership is made up of young professionals in Madison, and the ones that aren’t part of my organization, well, it’s my job to recruit them. That pretty much cuts out, oh, I don’t know, every good-looking young bachelor in the city. Every young, single, and eligible man in Madison is off-limits. It’s an impossible situation.

So, I went out on a date last night, and he happened to be a member of my organization, and when I tried to explain my hesitance with this fact, he just laughed, like “Is this really what keeps you up at night? You are so lame.” And I laughed back nervously, like “Yes, cute young professional bachelor, I am totally lame. You’re absolutely right.”

I guess I tend to take work too seriously at times. I work hard. It doesn’t stop. From the moment I wake up, I am working, until the moment I close my eyes in bed. And because I can work from the coffee shop, home or at the bar, and not just in my cubicle sans windows, I do. Which means when it is 8:24 pm, I’m usually working. And when it’s 10:02 am, I am working. And when it’s 3:35 am in the morning, well, I am sleeping, but I am working then too. Really. I have productive dreams.

Honestly though, I don’t know how other people do it, and I am beginning to think that I must have some serious health issue because I am not the Energizer bunny of Generation Y. A disappointment that is greatest to myself, because I look good in pink.

So, I am trying my best, which seems to be working out, mostly because your best has to be good enough, and I love myself enough to realize that my best is really quite amazing.

Work/life blur.