Queen of the broken

I should have been in bed hours ago.
If I were smart, I wouldn't be typing right now.
But alas, I am a slave to my art and have been cursed with incurable writer's disease.

People say a lot of things about me. One friend recently told me that reading my blogs (on another of my sites) is like reading prose. Or rather, that I only write my blogs /in/ prose. Another friend teased me about my use of old school html coding.

More than any of these, Friday night, I was hanging out with some people from work with whom I am friendly and one of them looked at me and announced to the whole room that all I ever blog about (on the other aforementioned site) is how much I "hate" guys and he called me a man-hater. Some of the people at the gathering had never met me before so this was a possibly formative statement in regard to their first impression of me.

To say I was deeply hurt would be a tragically understated response. I was pissed. Mortified. Humiliated. ... Crushed. For as much as some guys have put me through in my life, it's a miracle I want to even consider dating a logical pass time EVER. Granted, I'm not trying to currently date anyone, but that's an entirely separate story.

So I've been dealing with that wound in the midst of a sudden flurry of broken hearts among my circle of girlfriends. If I had a dollar for every time someone has asked me "Why doesn't he love me?" within the last seven days, I swear I'd have enough money to fly out to every guy's house and kick their asses. AND still have money left over to bail me out of jail for assault. ;)

Seriously though, what is happening in the universe that this centrifugal forces is pulling all these hearts into the epicenter of some sort of storm where the only survival is through tears and brokenness? What is with all these guys suddenly turning cold and uncaring? Why are so many of my friends falling victim to the backside of Love's swift hand.

Moreover, why are they coming to ME for help? ME for advice? ME to fix their problems, cheer them up, renew their faith?

I hold a guy's attention about as well as "President" Bush held the nation's popular vote his last year in office.

I should be curled up in bed with my husband and two cats while our child sleeps soundly in the next room and we wonder how we ever got so lucky. But instead, he's asleep with his new wife and the puppy and cat they got together. I should be fast asleep dreaming about sugarplum fairies and happily ever after and for some reason, I keep having this horrible recurring dream about my ex boyfriend and his new girlfriend's wedding. And I've been dreaming about this for nearly TWO WEEKS now. It's bloody ridiculous!

And yet, I get text messages, "why doesn't he love me?" emails "I love him so much. Why won't he treat me the same?" and late night visits from teary-eyed friends asking "Why isn't God listening to me? Why can't I walk away from him? Why won't he love me back?"

You are asking a CHAMPION OF FAILURE to tell you how to succeed.
Where on earth is the logic in that?
Don't get me wrong, I /love/ my friends to death and I would do anything to help them. But you can't logically ask a blind man to read to you. Therefore, what is with this standing assumption that I have any idea how to /succeed/ at affairs of the heart?

For my next magic trick, I'm going to pull a teenage of act insolence and say "I blame my parents." More specifically, my mother. See, mom taught me one-sided love. Love is a gift. When you gift a gift, you're supposed to give a gift you'd like to receive. Additionally, you should never give a gift with any expectations of receiving anything in return. You give a give "of the heart" (no pun intended) simply because it gives you joy to offer something to someone else. "

As is with heart strings, I give all the love I would want to receive from someone, I love without expecting to be loved in return and I have no regrets when my list of unrequited love affairs becomes longer than Santa's "to-do" list in November.

What makes me an expert at "advising" affairs of the heart? What makes me even seem like a logical resource?

The teary-eyed friend in my bedroom tonight shrugged and said "I dunno... you... listen. And you have really weird analogies that make me laugh."

I wonder if this sudden influx doesn't involve some not-so-hidden message that God is trying to reveal to me.

I have become the Queen of Broken Hearts. They flock to my like I can mend their wings. Like I can command gravity. Like I could get a guy for /myself/....

*sigh*

I've come to terms with my lot in life and I've decided I can still be happy, even if no one ever wants to marry me. This is the root fear of every woman. We are powerless to its effects.

But what qualifies ME?

What is it, God, that you expect of me? Why do you have me continually fail and sit in humiliation as I seek love and this guy who doesn't even KNOW me labels me an "unfair man-hater" while I sit idly by, pretending it's not hopeless to keep dreaming?

The truth is, I have every right to be a "man-hater." I have every good reason to turn inward, grow cold-hearted and turn only evil glances toward prospective lovers. None of my friends would think less of me. In fact, they'd probably say it's been a long time comin'.
But if I did that, I would have no gifts left to give anyone. Who wants to put a bow on hate? Not me. And it's not something I'd ever want to receive, despite how many times it's arrived on my doorstep.

I don't know why his stupidly flippant comment matters enough to make me cry.
But I suppose there are a lot of things I don't understand tonight.

Hey God, if you're still listening...have all my chances really passed on by? I don't want to be dreaming in vain.