The New M.E. Generation











Needless to say, our friendship was what everyone would say it would never be: real. There’s always been the notion that just a friendship between a man and woman will never stay like that. But it did.

We both had romantic relationships during high school, to which we respected and supported of. There was never jealously or intervened as to how we should deal with it.

He was aware of some details of the inside’s of mine as I would consult him, and I would because I had confidence he would suggest what would be beneficial for me and not for him. He never once strayed me so I would end up with him.

I showed my respect towards his relationship as well. I wouldn’t ask much about it and as long as I knew it was doing well, I would be the same. Besides, because I felt he was doing right for me, I was confident he would do the same for himself.

We had such a strong bond that even my BF at the time (who all knew each other from school) realized that if he wanted to be with me, he had to accept our friendship. I was never shy of talking about him and with time my BF realized my other friend was no threat.

My BF eventually learned to respect our friendship and even went to him at one time for advice when things were not quite there. Thing was, my BF was away in college and the long distance was obviously distancing us, so my BF started fearing he would loose me.

According to my other friend, my BF went to the pharmacy and asked him to have a private chat. Upon my BF saying about the challenges the relationship was having and me going away, my friend replied with these transcending words: “Don’t pressure Emma too much because if you do, she might slip away like sand between your fingers”.

When my friend told me this story during his last encounters with me, I got surprised to what extent my BF had gone for to not loose me. But as always, my friend was right on point as to how well he knew me.

Even more, he shed light on a personal trait: being pressured too much into something has never worked well with me. I tolerate it, but eventually disconnect or walk away. I tend to avoid the confrontation and if I do, I just explode, and then things get really nasty.

As I have said before, sounds familiar? Why is it that I seem to have forgotten plenty, but some things just remain the same?

Is this good or bad? Don’t know. Maybe it’s a half and half, good when it works on your favor, bad when it doesn’t.

What will I do about it? I’m thinking.

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I don’t remember what I said to my mom regarding the ship’s visit, but she agreed to take me on Saturday afternoon after completing our house chores.

That was the routine every weekend, cleaning the house, and I was anxious to get it done. I think I even had time to take a quick nap afterwards.

What I do remember is that I dressed up nicely with long white pants, a striped shirt and blue shoes. I don’t know what I was thinking because I could have worn something more casual.

But growing up wearing a school uniform all your years of schooling made you wanting to wear nice clothes whenever you had the opportunity.

My mom and I got to the location and my heart rushed as soon as I saw the ship. It was all white and traditionally designed like those you would see in the movies. But seeing it in real life was an experience I’ve never had before.

I stood with my mom before the ramp connecting the dock and ship. There were two guys on each side of it, who greeted us before walking up. They were surely happy to see me (guess you guys don’t get to see too many chicks?).

When I finally stepped on the ship and took a good look at it, I felt transported to another place and perhaps time. For a few seconds, I simply forgot where I was.

I don’t remember how things happened next, but I asked one of the guys where Johann was. He turned around and called to him out loud, with a tone of ‘somebody’s here looking for you, you lucky guy’.

I was so embarrassed as I was still trying to keep this situation unknown to my mom. But before I could react any further, almost coming out of thin air, Johann appeared.

He stood in front of me, I turned around to look for my mom and, to my surprise, she walked away, laughing.

I got what I wanted, getting to the ship, finding Johann and my mom allowing me to talk to him.

Now, what do I do?

I looked at him again and all I could do was say ‘hi’ and smile.

“Hey, you made it! I’m so glad you did!” said he. He probably thought he would never see me again.

Looking back I now realize what an accomplishment that was. I made a decision on doing something and went for it, but thinking it would probably fail somewhere in the attempt.

I took a risk and something greater than me made it all happen. Call it courage, the universe, or perhaps divine intervention.

What’s important is that I was there.

“Yes, I surely did. I made it.”



After the pain dissipated somewhat, I started getting angry. It was the first time feeling this way. I would always feel a never-ending sadness and confusion, and of trying to make sense of what happened.

But it was obvious what occurred here. He stopped communication with me out of fear that he would get caught, which he did.

He was then faced by his spouse, who probably told him to choose between me or her, or else, so he had no other option but cut me off completely.

I do understand that at times one has to do what necessary to resolve an issue for the sake of other people or relationships, even if it means gaining something, but loosing another. Even if we have to do it not really wanting it, I still get it.

What really bothers me is that, even after some time had passed, I never got an explanation for what he did or happened. It was pretty much the same as back in college; our relationship, or whatever we had, never got resolved when we last saw each other.

He may have done what he needed to, but neglected to take care of the one who was hit the hardest by his actions, me, the one who didn’t deserve any of this.

He simply walked away and left me standing alone to pick up the broken pieces and deal with it.



I couldn’t get to sleep that night. All that had to do with he and I kept going around my mind over and over with no resolution.

When I finally fell asleep, I had a dream. In it, he and I were standing face to face. I looked at him straight to his eyes and repeatedly asked him, ‘Why did you leave me? Why?’ while trying to push him away.

He didn’t answer me. He held my hands and I lowered my head with tears coming out of my eyes. He then hugged me and I placed my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I felt an immense sense of peace.

I then woke up and stared at the ceiling in the dark, and it all came back to me. We never concluded what we had the last time we saw each other. We simply turned around and walked away from each other and our feelings. We let go of everything that joined us, but not of what we felt towards each other.

So what happens next? Nothing. What we shared belongs to that time and there’s nothing else for me to do other than learn from it and finally close that chapter of my life.

Maybe we needed to part ways and find each other again so we could get it right the second time around. And I think we finally did that, even in the distance. It is now up to us to decide if the connection remains or we part ways again.

Whatever the outcome, he will always remain in my thoughts and can only wish the best for him.

So I guess it will be good-bye, for now.



et cetera