The New M.E. Generation











I got on my car and tried to keep calm while driving. The 20-something guy suggested a place to meet that I’ve heard before, but never been to. We were to meet outside of the location and take it from there, in case the place wasn’t worth staying.

I got there about 20 minutes later. I parked on the other side of the sidewalk of him and he got off the car first.

‘He doesn’t look that bad,’ I thought to myself. He actually looked better in person that his photos, which is not usually how it goes. But, hey, if you post a photo of you sticking your tongue out during Spring Break week, your hope is that the real thing is way better than that.

He greeted me politely and still seemed well mannered from what I perceived from his phone voice. So far, so good?

“This place looks kind of dead to me. We should probably go somewhere else,” said he. He was right, not much activity was going on.

“There’s this jazz bar not far from here that has a nice ambience. I think it’s a good alternative for drinks and the music is good. We can even walk there,” said I.

The first sign of how our worlds were different was when we were walking on the sidewalk. Where I come from, the man walks on the side that faces the street so they protect the women from any dangers that may occur.

I didn’t say anything because I didn’t wanted to start the night ‘on a bad step’, or sounding perhaps like his mom, whom I bet is probably more or less my age. And that would make me feel old, which I didn’t want to go there. Besides, I have barely seen anything else of him, so I have to give it a chance.

We got to the jazz bar and found a table outside. It was pretty filled up and the music was playing. But, again, he didn’t display a behavior I’m used to, like a guy helping a lady sit on the chair.

Is it me being too old school or just too picky with any guy, period?

Looking back, I think many of the past guys were quite immature for their age, Or maybe I have been too critical of all of them.

Whatever I’ve lived in the past, I’m in the present sitting at a table with a young guy who I don’t think has any clue of what basic etiquette is.

Either I liked it or not, I felt as if I had a mirror with my own reflection telling me the truth of this moment: He’s way out of my league or, for a lack of better words, I’m too old for him.

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