It was indeed initially in Step One: Shock, but I quickly moved into Step Two: Denial. I was pretty good at that one. He’ll call. He’ll be back. Three weeks later, the phone’s still not ringing.

With that, I’ve skipped Step Three: Bargaining and Step Four: Fear. I really don’t have time for that. I don’t need someone who isn’t all about me. I’m not looking for someone to spend time with, companionship, or some smooching. I’m in this for love, and I’m not fooling around with anyone who isn’t willing, ready, or able. Either you’re in, or you’re out. The end.

Well, I’m officially in Step Five: Anger. How dare he not be insanely in love with me?! I can’t walk down the street without stepping over someone offering me dick, and he just walks away the minute that it isn’t all hunky-dory, happy-happy! Who the fuck does he think he is?

And you know what makes me even angrier? That I’ve got a blue-eyed guy with a megawatt smile who drives me home so I don’t have to ride the el or in a taxi alone while buzzed, talks sweetly, doesn’t try anything fishy or frisky, finds reasons to call, asks me out within two days of meeting me, and insists on also having lunch earlier in the week because Thursday -- my only available night of the week -- is a long way away.

No, it’s not having this total Mr. Right around that makes me angry. It’s that Benito’s lackings have made me even more guarded than I already am. That I’m going to wonder if there would have been a difference had Benito said “break” instead of “break up”. That I’m going to one day run into him with Mr. Right, happily moving on with my life, and I’ll stop and wonder.

It’s not fair to Mr. Right. It’s not fair at all.

But is it also fair to not give him a shot because someone I thought I’d spend the rest of my days with is confused?

Absolutely not.

Mr. Right booked a lunch date on Tuesday and will run with me on Thursday evening before we go to happy hour.