The New M.E. Generation











The next school day I remember driving around quickly in my friend’s car so I would learn how to get to the university by myself. The idea was to drop him off there and pick him up later when he was done with classes. This meant I had the car all for myself to go to the beach.

The best thing about the beach was that because the sand was so hard, cars could drive on it and not get stuck. It was a surreal moment for me being there. It’s one of those times that later in life you can tell others you did it.

I also got to see my friend’s university. After the situation he went through in high school to graduate, I was glad to see his life now flourishing and having overcome what happened in the past.

So, as agreed, I went to the beach to drive around it for a while and then went to pick him up around 2 p.m. When I got to the parking I noticed many of the cars had a sporty design, with colors that were more associated with a guy. My friend’s was around those lines; dark blue, 2 doors, with a look of a car meant to have fun with.

I wasn’t surprised he chose this one; it was well taken care of and had the features he only needed for that time in his life. Although it wasn’t new, he was the type of person that would always compare price with value, and how it would make his everyday activities easier.

I was like that as well; I liked to buy things that were only necessary and believed they didn’t have to be expensive to be defined of good quality.

I then headed to the students building to find him. As I walked down the hallway I felt the architecture of the school was plain and dull, with not much vegetation. My school’s design was something similar to this, but the many green areas compensated, giving it a more neighborhood feel.

Upon entering the building and walking, I started feeling strange, as in ‘all eyes were on me’. I looked side to side and realized the place was full of men. I couldn’t see one female in all this. It was as if they were looking at me like some strange alien that just landed on this planet.

I started walking faster, almost running. ‘Where’s my friend??’ I thought to myself. ‘I thought the school was co-ed!’

What a relief to find my friend. “Why are there no women here??” I asked him. “All the guys were staring at me as if they’ve never seen one before!”

My friend laughed. “Unfortunately the ratio of men versus women in the field of aeronautics is greatly uneven,” said he. “There are women in this school, but few. And, they’re not that pretty. Actually, they’re nicknamed ‘dogs’.”

“That’s not nice! You all probably feel intimidated by them and just want to put them down. They can’t be that bad looking.”

“They’re not as pretty as you, especially the way they dress up and present themselves. You know how I am, I like them to be feminine. They always wear these sneakers that don’t flatter them. I know we’re in college and the clothes are not that important, but a nice dressed women is always appealing to any guy.”

And as always, my friend found the words to make reason out of nothing. It was also nice to hear my friend tell me that I was pretty. I had an idea how he felt about my looks, but hadn’t expressed this directly to me until now.

He had told me before that I was well-mannered, and would know how to speak and behave in any situation, being it a BBQ or a dinner at the White House. That I was the type of girl any guy would like to take out to anywhere and not end up embarrassing him.

I have agreed with him on my so-called good education, but on the looks was another matter. Then and now I’ve considered myself to be just an average girl. I don’t know if it because I believe that ‘looks come and go’ and what you really are stays, meaning I want people to remember me for who I am, or perhaps I don’t give myself enough credit for always trying to be the best person I can be.

For me, being beautiful starts in the inside. Once you master that, it all shows in the exterior and will be noticed by everyone.

Whatever the reason for not seeing what others do, my looks have earned me some pretty memorable moments, just like what was about to happen next.

Don’t worry, it didn’t get ugly.



“Why are we having this conversation again?” asked I. “Why is this such a concern to you?” I gave this guy a very serious look. He gave me a blank stare back and didn’t respond immediately to my inquiry.

It was somewhat upsetting that he was sort of ‘laying the law’ when first, he barely knew me and, second, was trying to convince me that he was really knowledgeable about the topic.

And, besides, if there’s nothing to happen here, why the concern, or is it that? What is it that he’s really trying to tell me? Perhaps warn me?

Is it that maybe he doesn’t want me to have a distraction away from him or it has to do with my age, as in, ‘don’t put your time on something when you don’t have that’, meaning you’re not getting any younger?

“Just saying,” said he. “Don’t you think it would be much easier to find someone locally?”

“Like I told you before, I’ve tried that already and it hasn’t worked out the way I hoped for. I’m not going to stop trying and if going outside the box is a possibility, I will try that too.”

I don’t recall what else went down in the conversation. After dinner he helped me clean up and even sat down to watch TV in my living room in spite of previous his criticism regarding its size.

It wasn’t that late when he told me he had to go, as he had lots of homework for the next day. This sounded like the Cinderella story; what would he turn to when the clock strikes midnight? I wouldn’t be surprised he has other plans, like meeting up with another woman, but I was glad he was gone. The night has evolved as far as it should.

I finished the clean up and went to bed not really reviewing the night. But when I woke up, I felt a huge sense of emptiness and sadness.

I stayed in my bed, laying back, staring at the ceiling, considering the nature of my emotions. I was fine last night and now this.

I know nothing will happen here with this guy, that I need to experience life more, so why these emotions?

Simple, at the end of the day, I’m back where I started with this guy thing, without one.

I guess I already know what will happen next: we might see each other one last time, maybe text or talk a few more until all vanishes into oblivion by itself. I will stop communicating and so will he, and that will be it.

Been there, done that. What am I doing about it? Nothing. Next…!



My stress, unfortunately, didn’t level down. I always get like this when it’s a first date, although I was not trying to define it like that.

Heck, I could approach it as a night out, casual encounter, meeting, anything that wouldn’t make me think about what would or could happen next.

The way I select what to wear is so nerve wrecking, it’s almost like a self-defense mechanism so I don’t go on dates. Because the guys I’ve met haven’t been mostly unworthy, I’m already conditioned that it will always fail.

Maybe that’s the clue for my failures: I’m already giving it a verdict before the ‘trial’ happens.

So, I open my closet and first decide on pants or a dress. If I do on pants, then it’s the decision of the top. This means playing around with the ‘cards’ I have by putting the clothes on my bed. Once I like something, I try it on. If it works, I wear it. If not, keep trying options.

If all fails for me, then I try the dresses that I have and pray something will click and, more importantly, that it fits. Yes, that’s another factor. Because I don’t go out on that many dates, the clothes I usually have for that sit on my closet at times without being worn.

This means that when I try them on, they could not fit me any more for having gained weight or, if they do, they might be clothes that I decide at that moment it’s time to part with.

The second happens every so often with my wardrobe. I get on this mood that certain items remind me of a particular life period that I just want to forget, so I quickly take them out of the closet and place them in a bag to be donated.

It’s a cleaning process that makes me feel lighter, allowing my emotional space to heal and that of my closet to be filled with new things that reflect the present me.

I started looking at all my dresses and nothing was doing it for me until I looked at a strapless, black, a-lined model I’ve had for years. Of all the items I currently have on my closet, this is probably the oldest of them all. It’s been with me way before my marriage fell apart.

Why have I kept it, especially when it belongs to ‘my past life’? I know I go through a cleansing every so often, but this one always fits me no matter the weight I have, it has a timeless style and, most importantly, always makes me feel pretty when I wear it. It somehow manages to make me forget the history behind it and look at myself in a new light.

After this major undertaking is resolved, then it’s the shoes and accessories. I put them all together, switching choices around until the ‘this is it’ factor occurs.

Last step, unbelievably the less stressful of all, hair and makeup. They’re equally important, but I guess the other elements are what really reflect who I am as a whole. Once I’m all dressed up, I do a final inspection on myself that all is in order and I’m ready for the night.

I liked what I saw on the mirror, but will he like it?

I checked myself one more time and a thought came to mind: ‘Take it as if it was an adventure’. Don’t know where that came from, but I took a deep breath and left.

Was that you, universe?



I kept myself ‘busy’ by eating the pizza non-stop. I wasn’t talking much because this conversation was all about him, as it has always been and which I have allowed it to be.

Ever since he reappeared in my life, I’ve been analyzing

    him

and what he did or not, etc., way back in high school. The sad part is I haven’t concentrated my efforts in where I stood and stand now.

Sounds familiar? That’s how it happened in my marriage. It was all about my ‘x’ and his ‘me, me, me’ attitude. Deep inside he didn’t care about me and I became a means to an end, and when I couldn’t fulfill his need (especially that of children), out I went.

So, in the end, he would have let me anyway, even if I gave him what he wanted, because once needs are fulfilled, your work ‘is done’ and ‘your services are no longer needed’.

I kept looking at ‘the beach guy’ while he kept talking and asked myself where would I fit in all this when, again, it’s all about him (and his kids). The ‘overhead compartment’ seems pretty full from here.

After showing me the endless photos and videos of his beloved one, he then showed me photos of his ‘toys’, which included cars and an RV. They were so many that they made me feel small and that my life was somewhat meaningless.

Here I am with no material property that belongs to me as a whole. I rent an apartment and I still have a year to go on my car payments.

Besides that, I have a job, a few friends and some men that are basically ‘inactive’ as we speak. I have no plans for the future and have no clue what happens next after this night is over.

On the other hand, if you have so much good going on in your life, what’s the need of all these ‘toys’?

I may have been ‘clinging’ on guys in the past for emotional reasons and my ‘toys’ are clothes and shoes I buy at mega store sales. But even if I had all the money in the world, I wouldn’t surround myself with objects that, in my opinion, give you temporary satisfaction.

So, who’s really here with an empty hole to fill? I thought this guy had it all figured out, but what’s really ‘eating’ him inside? I was now looking at a person I barely knew.

What about me? Was still feeling smaller than his actual height, but satisfied in realizing that, from an emotional standpoint, I’m not doing that bad. Actually, I’ve made great strides and this night is an example of it.

And, right now, the other thing that’s giving me ‘instant gratification’ is this pizza that I’m eating. If I’m picturing anything memorable from this night, this will certainly be it.



My vacation was going very well. The days were beautiful and my school friend and I were doing more things that we had planned for.

It was on our second day of the trip that we traveled to his college town. I had visited him during those years and we drove around the beach and other places he had taken me to before. It sure was a trip down ‘memory lane’.

We took photos and everything, and I was glad to be at a location I thought I would never get to visit again. My friend decided to go for a swim, but I opted to sit and enjoy the view.

While he was swimming, I became very nostalgic. The last time I was here was 20+ years ago and, as it has been pretty much my entire life, I questioned my whole existence.

It has been a difficult year and I had no sense of direction of what was to happen next or how I was going to get to the next level.

My friend knew I have been unhappy with anything related to me for the longest time. I was trying to show my best face possible, like in the past, but it wasn’t all working.

I am now older, perhaps wiser, but still pretty much lost. I am at a stage in my life that all I wish for is quite simple: find a man, have a home together, and maybe a family.

I know life is not picture perfect as others have told me (including him) and that the grass is not always greener on the other side.

So, how do I take things from here while sitting at the beach? Don’t have a clue. Hopefully the ocean water will wash all my sadness away.



I kept waiting for this guy to emerge to the point I got really upset with him and just wanted him not to show up at all. And just when I was thinking this, sure enough, he appeared, with some ‘baggage’.

“Hey girl, what’s happening?” said he.

He was sort of loud, still very hyper, and sporting a very awkward looking jacket. No, this is not the ‘baggage’ I was referring to.

He made a stop somewhere and bought a bottle of white wine, which was placed in a bag. ‘Taking care of something’ was taken care of.

“Fine, you finally made it. Thanks for the gift.” (Not really, especially when you don’t need more of it.) I placed it on the fridge while he checked out my apartment until he ended standing on my balcony.

“Well, hey, yeah, what’s up with this place? Why did you moved so far out here? How much are you paying?”

(Here we go again.) “I’m not getting into that now,” said I in serious tone. (In other words, it’s none of your business.)

We eventually sat down and I served myself some wine. He didn’t which allowed him to mellow somewhat and me keep my cool knowing anything could come out of him.

While trying to have a conversation, I kept a close eye on him, especially on that jacket. What was he thinking when he bought it? I don’t think it was a ‘hand me down’, but if he wears it all the time, now I know why he’s not a hit with the women (beside his personality).

So, what happens next now that he finally landed?



After I sent the email I put my mind into something else. It was one of those few moments in which I would do something and not dwell or kept thinking about what would happen next.

After a few hours of not checking my emails, I finally did. At that moment, I got the curiosity if any outcome had occurred. And it did. He replied.

“Hey, nice to hear from you after all this time. My life is going well with work, kids and else. Give me a call and let’s talk and get an update of everything that’s going on. You probably still have my number, but here it is just in case.”

Wow, that was so unexpected, the part of being so nice and even providing his number. I did expect a reply, but not this type.

Although something written can be interpreted in many ways, it gave me a good vibe. It was the feeling of being an invitation to reopen the lines of communication.

So now that I got the response I really wished for, more than excited, I’m scared.

Of course I will call him. How I speak over the phone is another thing. No room to repeat mistakes.

Damn, what have I gotten myself into?



I didn’t give Jesse much thought after my conversation with Madelyn. It is what it is and I don’t need to let things give me any more anxiety than they already have.

Besides, I was clear on this one. I took his number down, so I was in charge of what would happen next.

So, I did it my way; I waited a few weeks to go by and decided to text him. Yes, texting. I thought I should try something new besides a phone call.

And, because it was my first time doing so, I couldn’t wait to learn how he would react.

(My text): ‘I told you I would get in touch with you.’

‘Sorry, I don’t recognize this number,’ replied he.

‘Can’t believe you don’t remember me!’

‘Still don’t know who you are.’

‘That’s because of all the girls you probably hit on the night you tried to pick me up.’

He still was not getting who it was until a few more messages later. The interesting thing was that the phone never got involved throughout the entire time. Even more, when Jesse finally realized it was I, his tone changed.

Although he was at work, he was able to easily put into a few words what his impression was of me.

He had to keep it down, and I meant the words, in case he got caught, like someone taking a look at this phone (or maybe his pants).

The texting didn’t end up on anything. He was busy so we just finished the ‘exchange of words’ with some ‘TTUL’.

I was laughing at how it all turned out. Best of all, he didn’t chase me again into seeing me or anything else.

Hopefully he got satisfied and will perhaps look for someone more his age who will go for his pick-up lines…or so I thought.



I finally found the courage to call him. I did around late in the evening, thinking he would be done with whatever he needed to do and available. Before I dialed I started getting anxious.

What if he doesn’t answer? I didn’t give him my number, so chances are he will not take the call. Well, that’s what I would do. So if he doesn’t answer, I will try again at another time, like the next day.

OK, here we go…(it’s ringing).

“Hello?” “Hi, it’s Emma.” “Hey, you finally called!” “Yeah…”(Oh no, his voice sounds weird, like, I don’t know, but it is.)

“I don’t know what to say,” said I, “we’ve pretty much said everything through the emails.”

Alex and I talked for a while, basically expanding on what was discussed online. After a few minutes my anxiety started to ease. His voice still sounded weird, but I forgot about that eventually.

Actually, my impression of him remained throughout the conversation. OK, still feeling good about it. So, what happens next after this conversation is over?

It seemed as if he was reading my mind when the next dreaded question was uttered.

“Would you like to finally meet?”



et cetera