The New M.E. Generation











“I promise I won’t bite,” said he while I kept considering his offer and sporting a poker face. Hell, this is not the first time I’ve heard this and won’t be the last.

I was torn as to what to do. I thought that if I declined, I would get upset later for not giving myself the opportunity of exposing myself to situations even though I’ve had them before.

Then, if I do decide to give it the go ahead and the results are bad, question is, which of the two will I regret the most? Even if I decide to go, that doesn’t guarantee that the outcome will be good.

“Fine, wine it is,” replied I.

I followed him in my car and his apartment wasn’t that far. I parked outside the building as instructed. It was one of those locations in the area I remember seeing going up every time I drove to work.

My insecurities sort of started to get activated. It’s not bad where I currently live, but it is an older structure and not as fancy as this one.

The apartment itself was not that big, but nice. It had 2 rooms, kitchen, living area, and balcony. He had a male roommate and the place was definitely a college/bachelor pad. At least it was a place that was mainly clean and organized, good enough to feel confident of safely drinking some wine from a glass he had.

I sat down on the sofa, which had in front a massive TV. It was a little bit intimidating looking at it. Not even growing up at home was there ever one this size and forget about those in college; the rooms could only accommodate so much. People had to basically sit very close to be able to view the screen.

Even if I presently had the money to buy one, I wouldn’t. I don’t see the value of owning something like this and prefer investing the money in something else that has more of a long-term value.

It also made me think, how does this guy (or maybe his roommate) get the money to buy it? I started feeling out of place and thinking this guy and I were really in 2 different worlds that were becoming more distant by the minute.

What the heck was I expecting? Sorry, I’m not in college any more and I’m not winning this battle of the sexes any time soon.

“Hey, you want to sit in the balcony?” asked he.

Good idea, perhaps a neutral zone is the next best move.

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“All right, just follow me,” Brian said. He explains where he lives, but I can’t recall if I’ve ever been in that part of ‘the city’ in the 13 years I’ve lived here.

I followed him on my car and he takes a route that seemed somewhat long for me. I was hoping I wouldn’t loose track of him because, otherwise, I don’t think I would be able to find my way back home.

After a short drive later and having arrived at his place, I get a tour of his residence (like that of the fire station) in about 15 minutes or less. His apartment is a 2/1, with a kitchen, living, family room and den, with, I guess, about 1,500 sq. ft. My place is a 1/1, which I believe is not bigger than 1,000 sq. ft.

The place looked to me like a bachelor pad; not much furniture, just the essentials, and in need of adding some color to the walls (they’re white) or a design that would brighten it up a little bit.

I’m thinking what palette would look good here when Brian shows me the most ‘colorful’ room of the apartment: the den. This is the one that he calls ‘the petting zoo,’ which houses about five different reptiles, among them a snake and a lizard.

He took one by one out of their boxes and showed them to me.
“Here, touch it,” he would say.
My eyes opened wide and I putted my hands behind my back.
“Oh, c’mon, go ahead, it doesn’t bite!” he continued.
(And what is it actually capable of, if I may ask??)
I love animals like Dr. Dolittle does, but my adventurous side once again disappeared into the horizon.

I finally moved one of my hands and with just one finger, barely touched the creature.
(Yuck! It feels stone cold and rubbery. Is it dead??)
“It’s quite something,” is all I could say.
“Well, they’re really my kids. But I like them, they’re actually cool,” he concluded.
(You can say that again.)

After the mini ‘Jurassic Park’ exhibit was over, he showed me his other new acquisition, a laptop computer. ‘Now that’s something I can put my fingers on,’ I thought to myself.

We sat on the couch and, like with the phone, he showed me all the things it could do. While playing around with it, he also shared with me how he ended up in the apartment when his break-up occurred.

In his case, his ex kept the house and he moved out. It basically boiled down that she stopped loving him. It was exactly like my story, but in reverse.

He expressed that for some time he did miss the house after he left it. The apartment is not even a fraction of the space he had before, but he is comfortable where he is right now, in every sense of the word.

He has let go of the past (including his divorce) and has no regrets. In other words, he is happy and wouldn’t live his life in any other way.

I’m staring at the computer screen but my outlook is different. I’m still missing my former house and not all completely over my divorce.

On the other hand, my apartment is also a fraction of what I used to have as a home, but it’s mine. I answer to nobody but myself and I know I’m now in a much better place than in many instances of my past marriage. I’ve moved on in having no regrets whatsoever about anything and, in my own way, I am at peace with m.e.

Does this mean I’m happy? Um, I think I’m getting there.

At this moment, I’m just that for being here sitting next to Brian.

It’s good enough for now, for today, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.



et cetera