Charlie McBeal

AND so it came to pass that I broke Charlie McBeal’s heart.

In a sea of pink men at Bed last night—including two ex’s (the hottie dj and, ugh, the lukewarm HeWhoseNameShallNotBeSpoken) and amidst a bevy of nameless fuckah flings and a throng of almost-but-not-quite bf material—the thud was meek but nevertheless, felt.

You see, for eons now (dating as far back when I was still tied up to the curb with HeWhoseNameShallNotBeSpoken) Charlie McBeal was already sending me feelers. He would send sweet sms, Pablo Neruda quotes (which I sooo adore), fly to where I was at my beck and call, and we actually had, uhm, friendly dates. But his efforts of courtship were futile ‘coz I was still in a relationship. I am not reeking with virtues, but I put a lotta stock on fidelity (at least emotionally) and I give my partner the reverence and loyalty that he deserves when I’m in a relationship.

As expected, my relationship with HeWhoseNameShallNotBeSpoken went kaput, and no sooner that I can say eureka, Charlie McBeal was on a wooing prowl.

He came to my rescue—listening to my motley of excuses as to why the relationship failed, giving me his shoulder for comfort and holding my hand as I make my foray to detoxify from the friggin’ ex.

Charlie McBeal was a catch—he’s a hottie with a good head on his shoulders, heck, he’s a lawyer (no less) who was one of the topnotchers in last year’s Bar Exam. Obviously, I had to upgrade from HeWhoseNameShallNotBeSpoken and Charlie McBeal was the anointed successor slash likely candidate.

But…

For some very strange reason, he didn’t quite make the cut. I dunno, something was amiss. And I cannot put a finger on what’s he’s missing.

“I love you, Louie, I really do. I think each day on how it could work, but I’m afraid the feeling is not mutual…”

I was getting dizzy with my own dilly dally dance of committing or not.

I know, it would be terribly unfair to make him wait if I, myself, isn’t sure if there’s a green light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. I don’t want him to waste his time with no assurance that one day I will be jolted from my craziness and finally jump onto a relationship with him.

Charles, dear, this is what’s best. This is what’s right.