Where the heck is Charlie?
I think I have figured out what the problem is with my love life. It isn't because I am overly picky. It isn't for lack of men. It's because Charlie hasn't showed up. Charlie who you may well ask.
When I was three years old, I had it all figured out. I was going to marry a boy named Charlie, who would be a police officer, and we would have lots children... fourteen, to be exact. When I was in first grade, I decided that the boy I would marry would have to have a last name higher up in the alphabet than mine because I absolutely hated being of the last kids to line up for anything... damn Ms. Moss going all alphabetical for every single thing!
Now, I am not trying to sound all Oscar Wilde about people named Ernest, but maybe my problems stem from the fact that as far as I know, I have never, ever met a Charlie. Maybe I am subconsciously holding out for this childhood dream-boy. No, now I sound like Sandra Bullock in Practical Magic with her boy riding a horse backwards.
Sure wish he would finally show up.
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