The New M.E. Generation

I’ve been doing something for some time that I shouldn’t be, and it has been reaching out to this former college love interest when I know well I shouldn’t be.

Every so often I send him an email, especially when I’m sad, have a guy issue, or just simply want to have someone to listen to me on whatever matter is causing me to feel upset towards life in general.

The real sad part about this is that if he replies, he usually does it from his phone, using incorrect grammar because he’s obviously writing in a rush.

He always apologizes for doing it quickly because there’s always something going on in his life (meaning his family) and time is limited.

The end part of the message always has the same tone; he repeats that he’s my friend and hopes we continue to be, wishes me good things, and that all works out for me.

The last entry means that I find a guy that appreciates who I am and that finally stays with me for the long haul.

This may all sound great, but it hasn’t fulfilled the emotional need that still clings me to him. As much as I was trying to forget him all together, something always reminds me of him, especially when I hear his first name.

It is so ridiculous, I raise my head up looking for him as if he was to magically appear.

The other thing I do is check my emails constantly after I send him one, waiting for his reply. I can read it loud and clear, but don’t want to read between the lines.

It translates that he’s doing it because he feels sorry for me. He always wishes me well and that I find the guy deserving for me because he tries to make me feel better towards the lousy situation I’m going through.

It’s like getting a second place prize. I know what his situation is, but I get disappointed that he doesn’t respond that way I want to. I want him to tell that somewhere within him he still feels something for me.

I’m behaving like a juvenile, hoping the universe will play its part to turn things around the way I wished for.

What’s wrong with me? After all these years and what I’ve gone through, I should have learned my lesson already.

Yes, we may still communicate via email, he re-opened his profile on social media and I became his friend again.

But his wife and daughter are seeing what I post (again, why am I doing it when I know it?) and I’m exposed to all other people within their list.

I may be single and available to do whatever I want, but I’m stretching it so far that I’m making a fool of myself.

Actually, I’m probably pushing to be considered something unpleasant, like a bitch and idiot who has no clue that my behavior is totally unacceptable.

Definitely not a nice picture to put yourself into.

I’m driving down 62nd on my way to the firehouse station. The place is right in the middle of the neighborhood with houses all around it.

As I got closer to the location, my anxiety is making my heartbeat faster by the minute. If I couldn’t get a hold of myself, I was going to get there hyperventilating and in need of medical aid.

Well, hey, this could be a good excuse for showing up. I could use the old liner that ‘I happened to be in the area,’ started to feel sick and ‘accidentally’ found myself with the station.

I finally saw the place coming ahead and, in my nervousness, I abruptly turned right on the street in front of it, trying to place myself at a distance from the entrance. What I didn’t notice was that this is a ‘dead end’ street and had no choice but to turn around.

The station shares the block with a city governmental office and early voting is well under way. There are cars parked all over the perimeter.

As I’m trying to find an ‘escape route,’ a male firefighter signals me to roll down my window. Now I’m really hyperventilating; I thought I was getting busted for something I did wrong.

“Are you looking for a place to park?” asked he.
“No, I’m actually looking for somebody…,” I responded with a childlike tone. My voice got lower as well. “I know, I’m making a fool of myself.”

“No you’re not. Who are you looking for?” he then asked curiously.
“Brian… Well, he said that was his name, and that he’s divorced, and that he worked here…” I continued to explain.

The guy, Al (according to what I read on his shirt), frowns his forehead, really thinking over what I’ve told him, with a face that he had no clue who I was talking about.
‘Oh no, I’m in the wrong place!’ I thought to myself. ‘ Now I’m really a fool!’

“Oh, that Brian! (ding!) It’s just that there’s more than one here. That one was supposed to be here today, but he had a personal matter to resolve and took the day off. He should be here tomorrow,” Al said.
(Darn it! Now what?)

“But, if you’re interested in meeting other guys, there’s plenty of other choices here,” he continued as other firefighters are walking towards the station.

Al turned and screamed at one of them. “Yo, dude! Come over here and meet this nice girl!” (Now I’m also embarrassed.) One of the guys came over and leaned on my window.

“See this one here? He’s a fine, young man,” Al said to me while tapping the guy on the shoulder like he’s making me an offer I can’t refuse. “He’s even featured in this year’s firefighters calendar.”
(Lucky me! Does this mean I’m getting a copy for free that includes an autograph that reads ‘you’re hot, call me’?)

Why isn’t Madelyn or Dina around when you really need them? I mean, we could all have ended up with one each. Oh…so that’s what Madelyn meant by ‘bringing down the house!’

“Nice to meet you (but I’m really here for Brian),” I said while shaking the guy’s hand.

Al then said to me, “I can’t give you Brian’s number, but here’s what we can do: you come inside, I’ll show you the place and then we’ll try to get a hold of him.”

“Oh goody, a tour of a fire station!” I expressed joyfully while clapping my hands quickly like a little kid.

OK, women, let’s be honest here. One time or another we have all fantasized of hooking up with the ‘man in uniform’ who will manage to ‘put out our inner fire.’

Yes, admit it!! And that includes sliding down the pole like Madelyn said, whichever way you want to define it. You can skip the wedgie if you like.

Hmm, maybe both fantasies will come true today.

et cetera