You ask me why I’m single
With the same mouth
That hid unhealthy amounts of anger
As you combated with the “love of your life”
Telling me everything was fine
We’ll work it out
Just to return and confess,
“I’m getting a divorce.”
You ask me, why am I single
Like I don’t remember the river of tears
Blackened, bagged eyes
And sinking heart, touching the riverbed…
The gasps for air…
Brokenness had broken you to weeping
Jolting your body as you suffocated in suffering
You ask me why I’m single
As you send me pictures of the next victim
You’ll place your lust onto
All off the strength of
“I just need something different”
A knot-head unable to stop himself
From untying the three-fold cord
Unraveling the vows made while I was in attendance
At the wedding in the sanctuary of Christ
You ask me why I’m single…
Attempting to ignore statistics stating
More than fifty percent of marriages end in divorce,
Lasting eight years, on average
Disregarding the volumes
Of men being treated as financers and not humans
Predicating their value with cash rather than character
Excusing every single married woman
Telling me, “If I wasn’t married.”
While every married man says,
“Don’t get married.”
You want me to not be single in a world filled to the brim,
With these?
This one moved into an apartment complex of a lover
Specifically to have sex with him while her husband was at work
That one openly flirted with a stripper with his wedding ring on
Checking in with his wife between pick-up lines
This one intentionally drank too much at the party
So she could blame her adultery on alcohol
That one booked two hotel rooms
One for girlfriend; one for wife
One weekend apart
Without them knowing his business trips were lies
All find themselves filled with lackluster at the hearing of the question,
“How’s your wife?”
“How’s your husband?”
As if being married mangled their identity
And anchored them into a sea of depression
You ask me why I’m single…?
I’d rather ask, “Why did you get married?”
Oh, but of course what happened to them won’t happen to me!
I am the good man – the man of God!
Surely, God will send me my wife personally!
You expect differences inside of a church community
Where women exhibit church culture more than Christ
Who give more attention to gossip than Gospel
Who attribute more to astrology than the Almighty
You expect more from a place
Where a pastor passed on sexual diseases to a congregant
A place where priests and nuns gathered for more than confessions
Holy women get on their knees for Jesus and preacher
While holy men can’t tell if they want little him or her
But you think my chances are fairer?
How many elders explain how they obtained ex-wives?
How many pastors present new first ladies during praise and worship?
How many congregants worship a loving God
Only to fail to emulate that same love to the literal blessing they have at home?
He reads, “He who finds a wife”
Only to decide to bind his wife
Pick your prison:
Insecurity, domestic violence, verbal abuse, post-traumatic stress disorder
Some people aren’t good,
They just do a better job at hiding evil
I would’ve loved to have met my wife in 3rd grade
Would’ve cherished to have six months of dating turn into forty years of marriage
I would’ve cried out to have my wife at twenty-three!
But none of this happened for me
Instead, I am alone with God
The fear of living single has left me
The depression of loneliness is deceased
The longing for a wife is way behind
My friends and family refuse to believe,
But I’m good on pursuing anything
The dating pool is full of pee
And just like in that Las Vegas pool,
Where men were having public sex with women,
Ignoring all warnings about strangers from childhood,
Or security standing nearby, looking for the freaks
I can’t allow myself to remain swimming
Too much cheating
Too much fornicating
Too much damage
Too much ungodliness
Too much laziness
Too many games
Forgive me for my childish thinking
I look at love like Edward looks at Sandra
Time stops
I dredge up countless tales of lives we could’ve lived
Long before I say, “Excuse me, my name is…”
I spend many minutes on fabricated events
Only for time to recommence
Catching up from the daydream I forced upon it
Then, she’s gone, disinterested, or ghosting
And I am no closer to a wife than I was before the dream
REM sleep has always done better by me than reality
Yet, these days, I hardly sleep
Something is wrong with me
Something broken
I am no longer able to dream
No more walks down the aisle
No more endless smiles
No more first experiences
No more joy when I listen to R&B
It’s just me
Numb to the threat of dying alone
Stoic to the fear of fatherlessness
Unmoved
Unmotivated
Unafraid
The only thing I fear
Is being unprepared when I see her
Having dealt so long in dissatisfaction and distraction
That even her attraction cannot wake me
Forever casketed with the dead dream
Never resurrecting
God have mercy upon my soul
I have dated less than five times and it’s already old
My hips have received more warmth than my heart
Who would’ve known a shot in the dark
Could hit its mark so many times?
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