The New M.E. Generation











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?

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I got to my apartment as quickly as I could only to find a huge puddle of water in front of my door. The hallways are open, so if heavy rain is delivered with wind, the result will be as such.

I had no choice but to take my broom and brush away as much as I could. I couldn’t believe what was happening. The ‘beach guy’ is on his way and the first view of my residence is a huge concentration of water that almost doesn’t let you enter without wetting your shoes.

When I was done, I was exhausted and sweated, so I got into the shower and washed my hair. I still had about a 1-1/2 before his arrival, so felt I had time to relax and get ready.

I took a rest in my bed and watched some TV, all while this guy kept texting me of his location. He was indeed on his way, but I still felt it was not happening.

But in between all the excitement, I fell asleep. Between the long workweek, stress of driving, the cleaning and pending arrival had gotten the best of me.

I woke up suddenly and it was almost 9pm. I still needed to dry my hair and decide what I was to wear. I knew going out maybe wouldn’t happen, but what I wear is important to me.

And just when I was trying to do both things (surprise!), I get a call from the front gate that he had arrived. I ran to my closet and quickly chose a dress (don’t know which one).

I opened my balcony door and signaled him where to park while talking to him on the phone. Whoa, that’s some nice car he’s driving. It had a very sporty design (which reminded me of the ‘original’), but felt too gaudy for me.

He got off the car and my heart beat faster. It was one of those moments you thought over many times how you would react when it happened, but you forgot how to when reality hit.

I looked at him on his way to the entrance to my building and thought, ‘damn, he looks old and he has a belly’. Even more, he had lost quite a lot of hair and was wearing flip flops (what, you invested so much on your car you can’t afford a descent pair of shoes?).

But that’s me; everything I wear has to coordinate or have a reason to be worn. For him, he’s still stuck with the laid back mood of the beach.

“Hey, you made it,” said I. “Take the stairs below to the second floor.” This is all I could say. I had no makeup and my hair was not blow-dried. My dress and shoes were fine, but perhaps not the best for this ‘20+ years to happen’ moment.

Ah, who cares? Why do I have to be so exact?



This guy returned my call around 3-4pm that Saturday. He sounded like he was running 100 miles a minute. He explained that on Saturday afternoons he works as a personal trainer on a gym and was still at that, but wanted to touch base with me before it got later in the day.

Well, that’s nice of him, I think. It was a weird feeling having so much politeness from a young guy like him. Wait, let me rethink this again. Many of the guys I’ve met started out as that, being well mannered and behaving the way I like guys to do.

But after the first encounter, their true beings slowly, and surely, emerge. Reality is they were very smart. They somehow managed to figure it out and mold their personas to make it appealing to me. It is so well crafted, I actually believe there is a possibility that I have finally met a good guy.

So, why am I fooling myself? This guy is probably trying to lure me into the sack. But I’ll give him credit that he works out and knows that if it’s such the case, he better have something worth my attention.

Hearing his voice felt fine. It was one of those occasions when you get a good vibe in the first few minutes of talking to someone.

The only thing that raised a red flag was that he had a ‘jumpy’ tone or talking perhaps a little too fast for me. But this is no surprise since his schedule is filled to the rim. He probably needs that adrenaline rush to be able to pull it all off.

He suggested meeting at 8pm at a bar of my choice. In other words, he was leaving it for me to decide.

I liked that because I was still keeping control of the situation. Meeting him up at the location is an example of that. And, of course, I was not going to put myself in a situation that I know I shouldn’t be.

But I lost control of my thoughts when he asked me what bar it would be. I couldn’t remember the last time I was in one with a guy all by myself.

And what would I talk about? What do I really have to say to him? Is this all going to end sort of bad like my other experiences?

Let’s calm down and control my anxiety level. Let me think about (or put my energy) into something else, like, what am I going to wear?

Now that’s a stressful situation!



After much back and forth on what to do, it was agreed to do an early dinner and, depending how the night went, continue on to something else.

When my day at work finished, I literally ran home to get ready. First thing in order was to wash my hair and give it a blow dry. After that was time for make-up. Then the first panic attack hit me. What am I wearing?

I stopped the make-up and opened my closet to figure out what to wear. I knew a dress was the way to go, and started looking over one by one, but nothing was doing it for me.

Then I got the second panic attack. He called me. ‘Oh, no; hopefully he’s not calling to tell me he’s on his way.’

“Hey, I’m running behind schedule. I’ll pick you up at 9pm,” said he.

That is good for me in the getting ready part, bad in that I’m already hungry and need to put something in my stomach. Otherwise, food is not going to sit well with me. And don’t even think about drinks; it will make matters worse.

Aargh! This date is bound to be a disaster!



The day of the date finally arrived and, as usual, I started getting freaked out as to what to wear. Luckily, I had read an article that women on a first date should wear a skirt or a dress, high heels, and get a blow out at a salon.

The first two I can do, but, the third, I think I can handle that myself. So I decided to go with a dress so I don’t have to worry on finding a top that matches the skirt or, in other words, having more decisions to make.

I gravitated towards a dress that has a red and white print, which length sits right below my knee and the neckline doesn’t show too much cleavage. I don’t see myself as someone who has a lot to be showing, but I don’t want to come across as vulgar, even less desperate.

I then migrated to the shoes. I had just purchased (on sale, of course) a high-heeled wedge that had a dark brown and black tone. They’re not too high or low, making it the perfect height for the dress.

I was happy with what I putted together. It was all me and felt it was bringing out my best features. I felt I looked elegant without overdoing it, and not too sexy that will make this guy think I’m after “other things.”

All right, let’s see how things turn out.



et cetera