The New M.E. Generation











About half an hour later after getting to work, I get a text from him.

Him: “Good morning again lol!”

Me: “Good morning Mr. LedZep1.”

Him: “Ha! You know how long I’ve had that plate? Over 30 years!”

We exchanged a few more messages that provided some interesting data, like he lives and works in locations not that far from mine; speaks Spanish among other languages; owns his own company; expressed having a sense of humor, which I think of myself as well. I was glad that I finally met someone who is close in proximity and has something in common with me.

I avoided asking for other details, such as his company or last name. He didn’t ask for mine. At this stage is too early for that.

Before going to sleep, I texted him ‘good night’;  he replied with ‘Hi, same to you. Will look out for you on the road tomorrow, LOL’, to which I said ‘me too’ with a car emoticon.

I couldn’t rest immediately because my mind was digesting all the events of the day. I also connected with my spiritual side and thought to myself, ‘I have to handle this very carefully. Will keep this low key for now. No calls or mentioning about meeting. Let him reach out to me if interested.’

I did a mental review of what my besties have told me: avoid having expectations or doing anything that will get you hurt unnecessarily. Last thought was directed to the universe: ‘it will be what you believe it’s best for me’.

The next day set the tone for our morning commutes. Whoever got on the road first texted the other with their location. It felt like playing a Super Mario game where you’re looking which path to take to catch the fruits.

Turns out we’ve been missing each other by roughly 5 minutes most of the time, which created many texts like, ‘looking for cars like yours, LOL’, ‘center lane on 27th; you?’, ‘damn I missed you’, ‘wished I’d seen you’.

To compensate for not crossing paths, I take selfies and send them to him. He usually sends back one of himself, the view from his office, or whatever he’s having for lunch. He has also asked those ‘small talk’ questions, such as what I like to do for fun, hobbies, family background, etc.

I use one-word answers because I don’t want to give it all away; he provides more lengthy replies, such as that he considers to be a quiet person, is not into clubs or big parties (prefers smaller events), likes to cook, listens to music (Led Zeppelin perhaps?), play golf, and take his car for a spin at a track (did I mention he has a sports car?).

It may sound awkward two adults chatting over text messages only, especially being from generations where the phone was it. But neither seems to mind. I don’t. I think it creates a sense of distance and mystery that keeps this whole thing interesting.

On one occasion, though, I sort of broke my own rules. Upon missing each other yet again, and me sending a headshot selfie with my sunglasses partially down that showed my eyes, (to which he said, ‘I’m glad I can see your eyes’), I replied ‘hopefully one day we’ll see each other in person’.

That happened close to the weekend and he had inquired if I had any plans. I thought maybe this could ‘make or break’ anything that might happen next. I know we’ve just met, but after my Kevin situation (please see The Swipe), I wanted to make sure (in case he said was unavailable) that he had legitimate plans and wasn’t declining because of a secret agenda.

That Friday we only texted in the morning. Saturday I went about the usual; sometime in the afternoon he wrote, ‘how’s your day doing?’; I replied ‘doing errands’ and asked the same to him.

He said he had a friend in town visiting that he hadn’t seen in years; that he finished playing golf and were going to do other stuff at night. ‘Have fun’ was the last I said to him.

Sunday I went with the usual. I think I texted him early evening regarding his friend, to which he said that they spent part of the day together, but had left already.

We exchanged good nights and that was it for the weekend. I took it as in that he told me the truth.

We’ll see how the ‘find me’ car games goes this week.

“I’m in the need, the need for speed.” Start the engine please.

 

 

 

 

 

 



‘I can’t miss this guy again,’ said I to myself while hoping that the vehicles in front would move far enough for me to get next to his car. (‘Keep going, keep going… Yes! Made it!’) I’ve never been this happy at a red light.

I lowered my window and notice he’s not looking at his mobile (yay!). I wave my hand and say ‘hi’ to him. He stares back at me.

The light changes and his lane moves faster than mine. I notice that he lowers the passenger’s window.

I was so excited like in those scenes in a rom-com movie that you thought would never happen in real life. Only ingredient missing was having my BFF’s with me and shouting our lungs out like high school teenagers.

I hit another red light and was able to position my vehicle again close to him. The guy is smiling and gives me a very nice ‘hi’ back.

Me: “I’ve seen your car like 2 times before.”

He: “I’ve seen yours too” (not the best pick-up line, but who cares?).

Me: “Are you with the band?” (I asked because it’s a known fact that there’s many celebrities in the city I live at).

He: “No, I’m just an old Rock guy. You?”

Me: “I’m not a rocker, but who doesn’t know ‘Stairway to Heaven?” (I make a ‘rock on’ facial expression and hand gesture that goes with it).

He: “This is a very unusual way to meet someone.”

Me: “Yes it is… Are you single?” (please, please, please, let it be ‘yes’).

He: “Yes” (yes!!!).

We look at each other like, is this the part where we exchange our numbers or what?

Because my phone was locked and the light changed to green, I shouted mine through the window for the whole highway to hear. He told me his name, I gave him mine. He called and hanged up so I could save his mobile (which I did under ‘Mr. LedZep1’). And there he went.

I was really proud of myself for being ballsy for what I had just done. During the last leg of my commute, I started remembering other similar moments throughout my life that I took an innocent risk like the one today and paid off.

It made me feel good about myself, but sort of sad as well. Good because this was long overdue of doing something unexpected. Sad because I wondered how much this side of me has been lost.

Maybe I’ve got my mojo back and this was an example that proves it. Perhaps it has been dormant because no other guy (or situation) has recently inspired me to bring it out. Until now.

Whatever it is, I really love when I have a ‘something funny happened on the way to’ moment. It makes everything look so much different.

Question is, should I tell my BBF’s or keep it quiet? How about, lets see what happens first and then decide?

 



After my last attempts to meet guys online (please see The Swipe), I did take a break from my search. As much as I know that ‘mejor sola que mal acompañada’ (better alone than in bad company), it’s still bothersome after all these years not having experienced a serious relationship.

Yes, it hit me hard, and got me down for many days. Even having conversations with my bff’s only helped temporarily. Bottom line is, I envisioned my present in a much different way.

For that I’ve tried to keep myself busy so I don’t think about it. And started doing something new to approach what I was feeling.

It was the start of a work week and the traffic was somewhat congested. Every time I hit a red light, I looked around people in their vehicles to check out what they were doing.

There’s always some woman putting her makeup on, another was still wearing her curlers, and a guy was using an electric shaver for at least 3 lights long.

Others were obviously looking at the phone talking or texting, all totally unaware of their surroundings. I did a small experiment of making funny faces, even doing my version of carpool karaoke, and nobody noticed. It was so bad the disconnect they had with the world, I bet you had I done something politically incorrect through the window, still no one would have paid attention.

All I could was laugh, which was good, and congratulate myself for not being co-dependant on a device of any kind.

As my drive continued, I looked around at the sky, train, stores, and other things we all take for granted, and actually appreciated them.

I then said to myself, “I will give thanks for all the good I have: my job, family, home, health, those people who give me so much. Even the ones who were present for the time that they had to, I’m also grateful. Last, but not least, whoever falls under my ‘persona non grata’ list, I release you.”

Yes, I do believe that when some people (can be male friends, besties, love interests, etc.) are no longer with you in whatever capacity, is because they were meant to be when you needed the most. Sometimes they go into another direction for reasons that have nothing to do with you; sometimes what you had together has run its course and there’s not much in common any more; sometimes it’s us who realize that as much as we may appreciate the other person, it’s best that we step away for own good, and hopefully for the other one as well.

Those in ‘the list’ range from anyone who have used or hurt me, to those that is better not even thinking about them at all.

You can say my thoughts were a ‘waiting to exhale’ moment, but they did wonders to my commute that morning.

If I’m not laughing at people, I then look at license plates with a coded message and try to decipher them. If I like it, I take a photo and share it on my profile. Some are pretty straight forward; others not even my social media friends can figure out.

It was on a Tuesday morning when I did the above-mentioned exercise again; it gave me some relief, but was still feeling down. I then looked up and thought, ‘would it be too much to ask for a little divine intervention on this matter?’

About 10 minutes went by, when I was driving on the middle lane and notice a familiar plate: LED ZEP1. ‘OMG, there it is!’, I thought to myself.

This was like the third time I’ve seen it. On the first one, the car was to my left, and every time I tried to take a photo, the light turned green.

When I was almost side by side with the vehicle, I notice a man with white hair inside smiling at me. He was probably laughing at my attempts to take a photo at such a limited visual angle. I kept trying, but wasn’t working.

The guy kept looking at me. He seemed way older than me, so I thought maybe he was one of the band members? I mean, it’s a known fact that there’s many celebrities living in my city.

In spite of getting a semi-descent shot, I gave the guy a smile back and said ‘thank you’.

Second time I was again in the center lane and LZ1 got right in front of me. ‘Yes! Got the shot!’

And now, I wanted to say hi to the guy and hopefully even strike a conversation. Who knows, maybe I’ve been riding next to a music legend and didn’t even know it. Hit it!

 

 

 



In spite of having attended a Catholic school my 12 years of school, I developed a spiritual side at an early age that I don’t know where it came from. Perhaps it was me trying to find some way to deal with everything.

I remember being put to bed, but having difficulty falling asleep. My parents would leave a night light on just in case I got scared. I never had that situation where I wondered if there was a creature under my bed or else.

What really scared me was thunder, which made me run to my parents’ bed to find comfort by squeezing and hiding between them.

Another detail was that my mom never gave me a pacifier. I guess my brother had difficulty letting go of it, but I had the habit of sucking my thumb, which you can’t take away. Once in my bed, she used to say to me ‘don’t do that’; I would move my hand to the side of the mattress, to quickly doing it again once she was gone.

On those nights that were calm, I would stand by the window in my room. The glare from the lamp would reflect on the glass, and I imagined it was an angel sitting there. I would talk to it like it was a friend. I would even say ‘good night’ to it. Don’t know what I spoke about, but whatever it was, it was the one thing that gave me the peace I needed to rest well.

When I became an older child, my mom told me the story that I was born on ‘el día de la Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre’, a very important day for Cubans. She would show me TV footage of processions made to honor her in that island, and encouraged me to always pray to her, as she believed I would always be protected by her.

All this was very amusing and made me feel special. My brother didn’t had a special birthday like mine, so at least that put me at another level. For once I was ‘better’ at him on something.

Still, understanding and blending religion and spirituality has not been easy. You see, in spite of being taught the first, I’m still struggling to grasp the whole essence of it.

On the other hand, my mom’s comment has had a lifetime effect on me. I have turned to ‘Cachita’ in the best and worst moments, and feel a special connection with her that has never gone away.

I don’t know how to explain it, other than when I think of this Lady, I feel a warm fuzzy feeling that calms, keeps me grounded, and reminds me that things will be fine.

Call it divine intervention, perhaps touched by an angel. Whatever it is, it’s a blessing that just keeps on giving.

 

 



The next memories of my childhood are when I began school. My parents started coaching me early for the transition. I was fascinated by this new chapter, but my brother wasn’t that thrilled about school per se.

The most difficult part for me was actually waking up. I always wanted ‘5 more minutes’ of sleep, which I still long for in the present, even as my alarm clock is ringing. I admit it, being a morning person has never been my forte.

My mom used to walk my brother and I in the earlier years. But, surprisingly, around the third grade on, we walked to and from school with other kids from the neighborhood by ourselves.

Those were fun moments away from my parents. One time we were chatting so much, we lost track of time. Someone said, “what time is it?”. “It’s 8am”, another replied. “We have to hurry”, another said. “What for? We’re already late”, said another. We all looked at each other not knowing what to do, and then kept walking. (If my memory serves me well, I think we made it to school at a descent time.)

Getting to do my homework was a bigger challenge. My brother would get to it right away after lunch, and without needing help. He was the one who got straight A’s and excused from all final exams. He also had an artistic side which he expressed through cartoons and humor. He was a natural at all these.

Me, I just wanted to play a little before studying. You see, having discipline is a skill that needs to be developed. It wasn’t that I had a learning disability or anything; I was one that needed more time and patience, as well as organizing the assignments and else.

This didn’t go well with my mom. She having to sit and do homework with me took away time from her to do other things. And that bothered her, a lot. How much? Enough for her not to treat me well.

Seeing her anger and frustration towards me affected my self-esteem extremely (I had none) and created a self-fulfilling prophecy; the more I tried to be what she wanted me to be, the more I failed. So why try?

Instead of looking for a way that worked for me, or treated in a favorable way, I concentrated on avoiding mistakes or anything that would turn my mom against me.

Yep, my brother was her favorite and all I could was watch from the sidelines. I couldn’t understand why a guy was smarter than a girl. Without knowing it then, this was the beginning of my love-hate relationships with men.

With him I was hoping that some of his intelligence would miraculously come to me like osmosis and make me be like him. That way, all my problems will be solved.

It would take years later for me to understand my mom. For starters, she had a difficult relationship with her own mother, then add to the mix that her marriage was falling apart. Even more, she admitted to me when I reached adulthood that motherhood wasn’t something she enjoyed. Overall she wasn’t happy, and if I saw it, everyone else did.

As for my dad, he was more patient with my studies, but still wasn’t that happy when my grades were average. I don’t know if he understood my situation or thought I wasn’t giving it my all.

Whatever it was, homework became something I did because I had to, that’s it, much like making your bed or picking your toys. You didn’t thought about it, you just did it.

Although life at home was an unhappy one, my dad found relief in hunting and fishing since an early age. Incredibly, I found interest in doing the second (considering both are things guys do), and accompanied him in many trips around the island.

More than liking it, it gave me the chance to be away from it all and be myself for a few days. It also allowed me to see my dad in a much better light. We had in common enjoying being disconnected from the demands of our lives, which helped us bond greatly.

I also saw the beauty of nature through his eyes, and how planning ‘an expedition’ (as he used to call it) would teach me skills that always come in handy.

I didn’t know what my mission in life was back then, but if doing what guys do is the way to survive, then that’s the way to go.

But, wait, I’m a girl. How am I going to be ‘one of the guys’?

 

 

 

 



Spending time with my maternal grandparents was a good thing for me. In spite of my non-eating stage and occasional trips to the hospital, they still loved and accepted me for who I was. Maybe they went the extra mile for me because it was grandsons central.

They were also family-oriented and their marriage was an early lesson of what a good relationship could be. They also set the example that you may come from humble beginnings and still manage to achieve a comfortable life.

Most importantly, they were protecting my brother and me. They knew my parents’ marriage was on the rocks. I was too young then to label it as that, but I clearly remember seeing that my parents were never affectionate, nor expressed loving words towards each other (or the two of us), hold hands, or anything else, which was odd to me.

Then there were my paternal grandparents, the opposite of the others. My grandfather had married 3 times (widowed twice), being my grandmother the last wife. This relationship was probably more out of convenience of joining 2 prominent families together.

They didn’t sleep together in the same room and my grandfather wasn’t fond of women, including his spouse. He was definitely from the old school in which men didn’t display affection and ruled the home with authority.

My brother and I had to visit them (mainly for him) on Friday and Sunday afternoons. We would be dressed to the nines for every time (and if we weren’t, my dad would hear it), and as soon as we walked through the door, walked directly to my grandfather’s room where he would sit on his antique rocking chair and worked out of a desk. We would bow our head slightly, say “bendición” (bless us), and he would tap them.

He gave us both a weekly allowance; $3 for my brother, $2 for me. He would also fill a small metal container with spare change that, at least, we could divide equally. But the inequality on the first was proof that on that house, men came first.

As for my dad, he was the last child and second son out of 5 daughters. Although he was a male, my aunts in later years commented that he happened at a time that his parents were too old to be having kids; that he was pretty much on his own because the other siblings were out of the home already, meaning he basically raised himself. Anything here sounds familiar?

It’s sad to think how this affected him in his marriage. From where I was standing, his relationship with my mom, and that with his own father, looked confusing and scary. All he could was go with the flow, and probably hope that tomorrow would be a better day. Pretty much how I’ve dealt with everything myself.

Even with my aunts and uncle, I could see a distant relationship with my grandfather. As much as they wanted to be close to him, there was this coldness that separated them.

And what my grandmother could only do was just sit on the sidelines and watch it all happen. It must have been horrible marrying someone who probably treated you like crap and still had to give him children.

At least she channeled her affection on her children and grandchildren. She would play the piano, which introduced me to music. She also kept these Danish cookies in the fridge for me, which I would eat while sitting in a small rocking chair in the balcony and listening to her sing to me: “Arroz con leche se quiere casar, con una viudita de la capital. Que sepa tejer, que sepa bordar, que ponga la aguja en su campanal.”

I still remember being surrounded by the garden and the simplicity of those moments that you later take for granted.

There were also other memorable times, like my grandfather’s stories when he came to college in the U.S., and my father teaching me how to play hopscotch, among others.

Everything left a print within me, like recognizing that I still like to sit in a rocking chair and enjoy eating butter cookies from time to time.

Perhaps it’s recognizing that, in spite not understanding so many things, others did the best that they could; that I miss them sometimes and wished they would still be around; that even though we say that we will do things differently, we mirror them a lot more than we bargained for, not realizing it until our world is rocked to the core.

It’s learning to sit back and appreciate the good that’s in front of us; it’s enjoying that moment before we have to get up and go face the unknown.

It’s understanding that in spite that our lives have been difficult, there were those close to us that had it more complicated, who gave a lot of themselves in the hope of making ours better than what they had.

For better of worse, in the good and the bad, it is what it is: family.

“Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.” – Michael J. Fox



Day 1: I make my entrance into the world and it’s not that welcoming.

Why? Because ever since I was born, I’ve had this love-hate relationship with men that, until recently, been able to finally figure out.

For starters, my brother was the first grandchild and male born from my mom’s side of the family (there’s my aunt and uncle as well), which remained like that for about a year and a half. He was a big baby, with really blond hair, and looks that equaled any child from royalty.

Me? Not so much. I was an average size, with brown locks, and cute, I guess. There were also 2 other grandsons born the same year as me. In the end, the headcount was 6 boys, 2 girls.

My earliest memories of my brother and me was that I always walked behind him. Staying the weekends at my maternal grandparents’ home, he would say, “stop following me!!”

He also had a good appetite. Not me. I guess I figured out that by not eating I was finally getting the attention away from my brother. It worked so well, rumor has it my family would go to church to ask that I put some food on my stomach.

When it was time to sleep, we were both placed on the same bed on a room right across that of my grandparents. My brother though, he didn’t like that, and would cry because he wanted to be with them. I would look at him like, ‘what’s wrong with you?’

One time he got off the bed and wrote a note to my grandparents. He then knocked at their door (me beside him, off course); it read that he wanted to be with them. I guess it worked with my grandmother, as we ended at their bed. Honestly, I would been fine being left sleeping on my own.

Came Sunday morning, he would walk to the third room to watch cartoons and I would be doing the same thing. I looked up to him on anything I would do, even when my baby teeth were falling out and I needed encouragement to give them that last push.

What he did manage not to do was have falls. I had a talent while playing that would make me hit my chin bad enough that required going to the hospital for stitches.

One time it happened at night. My grandmother all nervous sat me with my pajamas on the hood of the car while trying to put my shoes on. My shirt was stained with blood and felt embarrassed for all the commotion I was causing, so much I wanted to hug my grandmother and calm her down.

Once at the hospital, I looked at the male doctor right into his eyes, letting him know that I was in full control of myself. I didn’t cry or make any noise while lying down on the bed. My stare was so strong, he covered my eyes with a light cloth before stitching me up. I still saw everything he did.

Interestingly, I don’t recall having anyone next to me giving me comfort or even holding my hand.

Like my brother said when he accompanied me when I arrived to college for the first time, and was about to board a cab to go to his own school, “You’re on your own kid.”

Memo to myself: there will be a lot more falls and stitches to come. So get ready ’cause they’re going to hurt, a lot. Here we go…



It’s Thanksgiving weekend, so I usually take this time to call people I haven’t heard of during the year. Top of list, Ivan, of course. In spite him never calling me, every so often I get this feeling that I need to check upon him.

I know the moment of us having anything is way gone, but I still contact him as an indirect sounding board (or ‘a person you run things by’ – Your Dictionary.com) to prove to myself that, yes, I’m doing fine, and better than other people I know (especially him).

I recently had also seen that he had opened a separate social media profile. There was a photo of him in what seemed a hotel room, which was odd to me. So it got me curious.

I dialed the number and was waiting to get his voicemail, which is what always happens, when he answers.

“Hey Ivan, it’s Emma, how are you?” asked I.

“Hi…!” said he with a tone that he didn’t immediately recognize who I was (am I in your contacts list by any chance??), plus that the top of the world fell on him.

“I thought you wouldn’t take my call, so, this is a first,” said I.

“I’m sorry Emma,” replied he. “I lost my phone once before. And my employer passed away about 2 weeks ago, so I’m out of work. She got really sick.” His tone now was one of being very nervous.

I never asked much about what he did, but my understanding was that he was the personal assistant to a wealthy elderly woman. He lived in a room in the big mansion she had and was allowed to drive the fancy cars she had. He even escorted her to trips.

I always felt there was something awkward here, but, hey, we all got to pay the bills.

Personally, he was always stressed. He had lived in another state before, his family is on the other side of the world, has no relatives here in the U.S., all which gave me a sense that he was very much alone and had no idea how to make his life less complicated.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said I (referring to the old woman). Him without work? Not so much. He knew this day would come. If he didn’t planned his next move, then he dug his own crave.

“So what happens now?” asked I.

“I don’t know… the family wants me to leave the house immediately… I need to get myself a place to live, a car…” said he like someone who’s still on panic mode.

“Ivan, stop, you’re making me anxious!!!” I got so out of focus, I had to breath slowly to get my mojo back.

Ivan apologized and the conversation continued normal. Among his other comments was that he was planning to go into the financial real estate sector (good luck with that).

I let him do the talking, the reason being that I wondered if he would ask if I was dating anyone. If he does, it means he’s on the same boat as me.

“Well, you read my mind,” said I. “No relationship yet. And that site you told me about, lots of fake users. Very disappointing.”

“I don’t understand. You’re such a pretty woman,” said he.

“Thanks. It’s nice to be told that, but after you move beyond it, there’s not much to look for in guys, unless sleeping with them is fine with you,” replied I. “How about you?”

“I’m going out with a girl from my country. We’re sort of together, but nothing serious. She has helped me a lot with some things,” said he in a tone that he doesn’t even know where he’s standing.

“Sounds to me that you’re with her more for what she’s giving you than your feelings for her,” said I. (And the 5-seconds delay starts now!) He was speechless.

“Like I’ve said before, I don’t know who’s having it worse, you and your bad relationships, or me being alone because guys have turned out substandard,” continued I.

He gave me the usual disappointment sigh and changed the subject by saying, “we should get together and have coffee or something.” (You don’t have a car, remember?)

“You know how long you’ve been telling me that? 4 years. That’s the same time I’ve been living in my present apartment,” continued I. “I haven’t seen you since I moved.”

“Really?? Sorry, I’m not a good person sometimes,” said he.

“That’s not true! I wouldn’t have called have I thought that. You just need to get a grip on your life. Maybe now’s your chance to do that.”

The conversation lasted close to an hour. The next day I called again; he was riding his bicycle (and the wind background noise sounded like that scene in ‘The Wizard of Oz’ where the twister blows the house away) and said that ‘he needed to leave town for a day or so’.

Kudos to him for ‘blowing off some steam’. And like the Wicked Witch of the East, riding fast to Neverland (oops, wrong story) and staying there for a while might be the start of his ‘happily ever after’.

Will I ever call him again? You bet your sweet B I won’t. It’s time to close the book on this one. The End.

 



{February 20, 2017}   The Swipe 22 – Here fishy, fishy

The day after having the odd conversation with Kevin, I decided to send him a text message to thank him for taking the call because I thought it was the right thing to do, and added that ‘I hope to hear from you soon’.

A few days passed by and no answer. Needless to say, I started worrying and wondered if it was something I had said.

Although the conversation mostly centered on him, he did ‘wake me up’ at moments with his questions, such as why I was single (“guys pretty much disappear at the beginning of anything, so not quite sure about that answer. I honestly think they just want to bed me.”).

I believe that I also said that I didn’t exercise as much as he did, obviously, but tried to keep it up, and that if being in shape was sort of a dealbreaker for him, to please let me know. I was also serious when I said that “if you tell me you will call, then do so.”

Yes, I may have sported a strong attitude, but after experiencing the stupidities of the previous guys, I’m definitely not wasting time deciphering someone else’s secret agenda again.

Eventually I send him a message through the dating site. His profile was still active, so when no response didn’t happen either, it got me confused.

I decided to then call and solve the mystery. He once again sounded glad that I did and as monotonous as before.

When asking him ‘are you okay?’ and saying I had messaged him, he said that ‘had been busy with work’ or something like that. It was as generic as moronic.

I decided to leave it as that. About a week later, to my surprise, I get a call from him. “I told you I would call,” said he. (Hip, hip, hooray?) But he made no mention of meeting. So, yeah, nice effort. Still half-ass.

Another day I finally got a reply to my long-lost text. ‘Hi baby how you doing?’ (Baby? Since when??) I bet this was probably intended for someone else. Good luck with that.

How things unfolded afterwards went down like this: he never called again. I was the one doing it. And if we spoke, he never talked about meeting, in spite him saying he did want to.

If I threw the question at him, he always gave me the runaround of ‘need to check my work schedule’ or ‘have to find out when I will be in your area’.

The last time I called him was during Thanksgiving weekend. I thought he would have some free time, but I was wrong.

“I have to work on Friday,” said he. “Ok, but we could meet at night,” replied I.

“My kids are visiting from college and I want to be with them as much as possible,” continued he.

“No problem,” said I in an upsetting tone and ready to hang up, when…

“What are you wearing?” asked he.

“What??” said I in a ‘what the fuck dude?’ mode.

“I want to know what you’re wearing.”

“I don’t do sexting or anything in-between. You’re not the first guy that asks me that,” said I in a ‘go fuck yourself’ tone.

“Because guys want to know. Don’t you want to know what I’m wearing?”

“No,” said I in a ‘no means no’ tone. “I know how this goes. It starts with a phone call, then you want to do photos, next whatever else. It’s not happening!” I was fuming mad, but able to maintain my composure.

Realizing how deep in shit he has gotten himself into, and that I wasn’t going to bite on the bait, Kevin abruptly ended the call. Honestly, I should have been the one to do that. His triathlon experience served him very well here in running fast from the situation.

After hanging up, I figured out why I was feeling weird with this one: he’s Fish #2. What Kevin wanted all along was the same as the first, a booty call. That’s it. So much for the family history and else that I thought made him different.

I immediately blocked him and deleted anything related to him from my phone, just as the other guys before him.

I then allowed myself to feel and think whatever I needed to for 24 hours, 48 tops. I keep what’s important in my mental handbook for future reference. Last step is going back to life as if nothing has happened. This is how I do it.

But the repeated patterns from guys has burned me out and I need a break.

I’m tired of guys with a self-centered attitude; how they over-correct themselves when dealing with their daughter, only to treat other women as if they were disposable; how they will say ‘don’t take it personal’ about anything that they tell you, but ‘I don’t want to hear it’ from you; how they will never admit that they’re wrong or say ‘I’m sorry’; how they don’t see anything wrong about being arrogant, but you ‘living in the past’ is.

I’m tired of being perceived as weak because I’m nice, to then getting my respect when I act (and react) like them.

As the lady in Cuba told me when she read the cards (see ‘The Reading’ chapters in the The Ex-Friend story), “No one wants anything with anyone. Nobody wants to be responsible for you. Nobody wants to give you anything. To get something from you or be comfortable with, yes, anything else, no.”

So what do I feel like doing now? Honestly, swiping left and logging out for a while. It’s probably the best hand to play at this time. Game over.

 

 

 

 



et cetera