That's what he said. Immediately after declaring he was in love with me, he finished his thought with that bombshell. There was no "but" conjoining the two sentences; making them two separate - polar opposite - powerful statements.
I couldn't even begin to understand what he meant. But I knew this much was true: once again, I was hitting a brick wall at 100MPH.
Over the years, I've often wondered how much abuse one heart can take: how many times a heart can be broken and expected to heal. The scenario above isn't the most recent but it's one of the more poignant. I've heard everything; mostly ridiculous excuses from men who are too chicken shit to admit they aren't brave enough to take me on. I'm the inconvenient one. The one with the "good energy", "the big heart" or "the sharp mind"; but I'm never the pretty one, the one who gets the guy she wants. Someone actually said to me not long ago: "Only skinny girls get the guys they want."
Let's face it...I will *never* be skinny. I don't want to be skinny. Skinny wouldn't look good on my larger frame. I'm descended from peasants and poor nobility; we don't do skinny in my family line (unless you are a fortunate recipient of the recessive "princess" gene, like my sister). In any event, admittedly, I could be in better shape and trust me...I'm trying to get there. But in the meantime, I look in the mirror and I don't see an ugly face. I don't see someone who isn't worthy of love (not that anyone is unworthy....everyone should have someone who loves them). I have a pretty good sense of style, Im smart and can maintain a witty banter. Why am I constantly left out in the cold?
The answer should be obvious but I'm still unwilling to accept it: I'm swimming in the wrong pool. The problem is the guys I like are younger, a little left of center and still care about having a good time and not rolling it up after sunset. The only problem with those guys is they want the pretty girls who make them look good. Being older and more established, I may as well be walking around with a big "Danger" sign around my neck. If you want to be with me, you have to be willing to jump into the deep end of the pool. I'm ready to get married and have children. That can be repellent for some younger men who may not be in such a rush.
In the most recent scenario, I can only blame myself for my broken heart. It's not his fault. He didnt know. I was too scared to tell him because I cared for him too much and didnt want to risk losing him from my life. And now...even if I wanted to, it would be too late. He's found someone else, and she isnt me. She bears zero resemblance to me, and makes me think even entertaining for a nanosecond he would have ever reciprocated my feelings was just foolish and trivial on my part. I want to channel the anger and resentment I feel right at him, but I can't. It's all on me this time. And that hurts more than anything. Which begs the obvious question....what am I going to do about it?
"Some may say, I'm wishing my days away"
That song is playing on the overhead right now. Maybe that's true...wishing, hoping and praying that my ideal will come along and rescue me. The truth is, if I cant rescue myself, what point is there to any of it?
And so the personal growth continues...
The song has ended and this one has taken its place:
"Someday. Someway. Maybe I'll understand you."
Yes, Self, maybe I will understand you someday. Until then, let's just muddle through with a beat-up heart, shaky legs and fortitude strong enough to make it to tomorrow. A brand new day indeed.