Del stared at the tiramisu, struggling to find the words to say.
“I’m sorry Charlene, it’s not you – it’s me.” Her eyes pleaded with him, desperate to understand.
“Was it something I said? Something I did?”
“Of course not. I’m just not in the right place, you know, mentally,” Del said, stumbling a bit over his words. “It’s only been a month since the divorce. That’s all.” Her eyes began to glisten in the candlelight – but she nodded to him, understanding.
“It’s alright Del. I get it – too serious too soon. You just need something different.”
Del was breaking down, and felt slightly ashamed that it was relief he was feeling. The champagne glass had a solid line of bubbles marching their way to the top of the glass and they decided to toast their way apart.
“To you, Del. I hope you’ll find your *perfect match* someday.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Charlene” was upset, but determined. She’d met Del as a blonde waitress at the bar, as a brunette where he worked at the docking port, as a shorter woman at the arcade and as a taller woman at his gym. She could shift and be anything – anyone. Why couldn’t she be what was right for Del? What was she missing? Still tasting the champagne on her lips, she realized there was one thing she hadn’t yet tried…