The New M.E. Generation

It was still early in the morning the day after St. Valentine’s and had no plans or guy to spend it with.

So what’s a girl to do? Go shopping, of course!

Hey, it’s the most wonderful time to do that, considering there’s bargains for merchandise left over from the holidays. So I decided to go to a store close to me that I’ve been to before, which was advertising great markdowns.
I went straight to the back part where all the clearance items were. I liked what I was finding and listening to.

The in-store background music was all American as the store’s image is. The tunes sang about having good times, how much love a person had for their significant other; all with messages intended to make your shopping as pleasant as possible.

Heck, I was even singing the songs in my head. I got into such a really good mood, that not even the crowd at the store bothered me.

Next step was the dressing room. There was a line, but I didn’t have to wait that long, which was great.

I got inside one and was so immersed in trying out my clothes, that I became unaware of all other noise around me. That is, until something very strange happened.

A song with a Latin beat started playing. It got my attention because my mind was already tuned to songs in English, so it took me a few seconds to adjust to listening the lyrics in Spanish. What was even weirder was that of all times I’ve been to this store, I’ve never heard any songs in Spanish before.

I know I live in a very populated Hispanic community, but I know as a fact that many businesses hire the services of companies that provide background music. This means that the songs have been pre-selected, so you have no control of what is to be streamed.

As I continued listening to the song I realized I’ve heard this one before: <em>“Your love is yesterday’s newspaper that no one else cares to read about. I loved you, but now I don’t. You’re now part of my memory album.”

WTF?? Was this the universe talking straight at me? This is not exactly a love song, but more of a guy telling his significant other that he loved her at one time, but because she was ungrateful to him, he’s moving on and doesn’t want her in his life no more.

Ouch! That’s a big statement. It was pretty much what I lived with the beach guy, but in reverse, and it resonated heavily with me. It was almost as if this relationship had just been played out loud.

Then the song ended and the American ones continued. I was so baffled that I had to sit down in the dressing room to analyze what had just happened. I was still wearing the stuff I had picked out to try on.

Why did this happen, especially when I was alone, inside the dressing room? Maybe the universe altered the music in some way to let me know that yes, I did the right thing the night before.

Maybe if I had been on the store floor I would have missed the song. I needed to be there between those 4 walls to really get the message of what had happened then and now.

I stood up and looked at myself on the mirror. It was as if I was staring at another person; I felt different but in a good way.

That girl from the past was also yesterday’s news and just as the lyrics said, I just don’t want you any more.

I was driving back home and more than happy that this night was finally over when he makes a confession.

“Hey, chica, I don’t think I can drive home.”

Say what? I stared at him even more closely. He’s either telling me the truth or he’s trying to pull this off so he stays over my apartment and try to take it to the next level.

From what I learned from him and his past, he thinks he’s going to put me in the sack. Honestly, even if he the last man standing, I’m not interested in him at all, not even for a ‘quickie’.

If he’s indeed that wasted, the farthest he can go is crashing on my sofa and I sleeping in my room with the door locked.

When we got to my apartment, he started rambling that he was not up to driving and so on. I brought a pillow and blanket, and placed it on my sofa and he wasn’t happy at all.

He kept saying things I didn’t care to listen and his demeanor made me realize he was fine enough to leave.

I don’t remember what I told him, but he got the message that it was time to go home somehow and ‘relieve’ whatever was inside of him.

“Damn, girl, I can’t believe you’re making me go in my condition. I don’t know if I’ll make it home….” He kept on and on.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep moving. Talk it over with your pillow and get over it.

As for myself, whatever is left of this night will be spent comfortably with my own pillows and television.

If I’m lucky I’ll find a comedy and laugh, a lot. This has certainly been a long day and the drama has worn me out.

I’m not quite sure this will be the last chapter with this guy. Let’s see how long the intermission lasts.

“I know you do and, yes, I’ll try,” said he.

I knew telling him how much I cared was not enough to ease the pain he was feeling now and would for the next few years.

The way to really help him was to hold his hand, hug him, or some physical affection that could really express what I meant.

We spoke a couple more times until I got the message I did not want to get. His significant other was back so it meant we couldn’t talk any more.

He made the call when he took his dog for a walk. As before, his voice changed to that of the role of a married man and father. The guy who was once part of my life then and now was put away.

Our lives went back as before, each other being part of the past, but not the present, as if we didn’t exist.

We haven’t spoken again and it won’t probably happen until next year, if that. That depends on him.

As for myself, I will still wish for us to see each other one day, that he doesn’t forget about me and to remember that I will be with him all along the way.

The school’s website of course. I visited their page and found they have a column for alumni. All I had to do was create a profile that later allowed me to search others who had done the same.

It only took me a few minutes to get it going, and quickly started my search. Oh, please, please; let this person be registered as well. (He is!)

I am so happy! I feel so lucky. You go Emma for thinking about this! But there’s a catch. The software is set to allow you to send a person an email, but you don’t know which it is. The receiver sees it was sent through the school’s website.

That sort of sucks. What guarantee do I have that he will get my message? How will the email actually look or identifies the sender?

Oh, whatever, I’ll give it a try. And I truly hope it works.

So, next step; what am I going to say?


I’m sleeping very deeply when my mobile rings. I can only think that someone definitely died or something horrible happened to a loved one.

“Emma, it’s Erik.”
“Erik, what the …” I look at my clock. “It’s 2:00 a.m.!”
“I want to go to your place and give you a Swedish massage. What’s your address?”
“No! (another million-dollar question) Are you drunk?” (duh!)
“Well, then come over to my place and stay with me. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

OMG, this guy is so wasted! The call gets disconnected several times and he keeps calling back.

“Thanks for the invite but it won’t happen!” (Why am I being so polite?)

Several more calls later, and him making more attempts to convince me to go there, he finally gets home, and the message that I’m not going nowhere. He hangs up disgruntled and stops the calls for the night (or day).

et cetera