Somehow this week, I have a hunch that I’ll be the oddball out of this topic, for I would much rather play the part of Miss Lonelyhearts than Miss Brokenhearts. After all, I’m not a country singer, so I don’t much need the material for writing cliche-ridden lyrics. My reasoning lies in the perception that out of the two, Miss Brokenhearts is far more pathetic. After all, to accomplish her status, obviously she did something wrong, or perhaps she failed to do something that she should have done. Gaaaaah…. maybe there’s even something wrong with her. Miss Brokenhearts tends to think the following thoughts: “Am I a horrible person…. do I suck in bed… is it possible that I let myself go physically…. was he using me the entire time… that bastard… every single declaration of his must have been a lie.”

Miss Lonelyhearts, on the other hand, doesn’t have a sign on her chest that says “Hands off. I am a relationship failure.” Nope. Instead, she’s an unknown quantity. Aren’t the enigmatic rogues more attractive than the needy asskissers in the first place? Miss Lonelyhearts knows this, and she enjoys the reputation of being one that no one has yet to capture. Perhaps she’s just more choosy, or maybe she’s just in a different league than all the men in her social circle. Miss Lonelyhearts has a simple concept in her favour - hope - the hope that perhaps her special someone is still yet to be discovered.

Conversely, Miss Brokenhearts possesses absolutely no vision for the forseeable future. Why bother with hope if she somehow lost the one she was meant to be with. Miss Brokenhearts is a bit deluded, if you haven’t gathered. Suddenly, reality will hit her hard when she figures out that all those friends prior to Asshole have either moved across the country or won’t talk to her because she was always too busy for them. “Snobbish wench… just because I cancelled dinner with her several times and forgot about her wedding….. crap.” The few friends with whom Miss Brokenhearts remained acquainted with will soon grow weary of overanalyzing every detail of her prior relationship with Asshole. If they actually like her, they might attempt an intervention, but Miss Brokenhearts will refuse any aid offered. “Don’t feel sorry for me…. I’m the lucky one… at least I didn’t marry him and get divorced like you….” At which point Miss Brokenhearts dissolves into tears and wonder if she’ll ever get married. Then, in an angry rage, she tosses the well-meaning friends out of the apartment. They really know nothing about love anyway. Then Miss Brokenhearts is all alone, and without much else to do after working hours, she goes straight home, because maybe Asshole will call. She does a whole lotta nothing except stare blankly quite frequently. At the television, the mirror, his old Run Lola Run poster, people on the street, and pretty much everything visually perceptible.

On the other hand, the enigmatic Miss Lonelyhearts is highly sought after as friend material. Friends use her as a sounding board for their screwy relationship problems, since she can always be depended on, unlike the coupled people. In fact, Miss Brokenhearts might even attempt to cry on her independent and well-developed shoulder, but alas, Miss Lonelyhearts is far too busy with an actual life. She has hobbies and outside interests. Indeed, Miss Lonelyhearts very likely has a handful of would-be suitors watching her for signs of interest. Quite simply, she is a hot commodity.

Miss Brokenhearts, of course, is as useless as yesterday’s newspaper in the dawning information age. However, she does religiously check the society section daily, just to make sure Asshole hasn’t fallen in love with someone and decided to get married. After this daily ritual, she follows a systematic series of checking all modes of voice and electronic communication upon every waking hour. Every so often, she even sends herself “test” emails and checks the phone line, just to make the cable company isn’t fucking up her only chance for lifelong love. Miss Brokenhearts begins to envy those people who lived in the nineteenth century and did not ever have to worry about missing a telephone call or checking email. She also wonders how Emma Woodhouse survived for weeks on end without hearing from Mr. Knightly when they were on good terms, let alone in the post-dumping stages. Soon, she despises every Jane Austen novel ever written. “Ironic, my ass,” she will tell herself judiciously. Shortly thereafter, the tortured strains of Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little PIll may often be heard outside her apartment door.

Dwelling on the past becomes an art form for Miss Brokenhearts. While she does remember all the reasons that she never was too sure of this relationship anyway, thanks to Oprah!, she dismisses all doubts as foolishly being afraid of committing to one man. Now Miss Brokenhearts craves committment, which of course, is perfectly evident to every male within a hundred-foot radius of her person. Notice also that a restraining order involves one-hundred feet of distance between oneself and the restrainee. See? Now she’s a freak - a freak who stays home on Friday nights watching reruns of all those horridly romantic comedies featuring Corey Haim and Corey Feldman. Indeed, Miss Brokenhearts can distinguish between the Coreys, and she actually thinks one of them is attractive.

Miss Lonelyhearts doesn’t watch much television, and she might not even own that dreaded appliance. Weekends are filled with stimulating conversations with groups of friends, and since people find her witty and charming, they constantly attempt to set her up on dates. And why the hell shouldn’t we want our brother/friend/cousin to date Miss Lonelyhearts? She isn’t bitter towards people in relationships, and she isn’t disturbed that even very stupid and ugly people are screwing like rabbits. Most importantly, she hasn’t sworn to break the heart of the next man who falls in love with her, in part to vicariously experience what Asshole must have felt like when he dumped her but also because, dammit, he’s on the same team. Not very attractive, is it? Heh.

Methinks that the other Divas have more to add, so make haste and visit Feisty, Silk, Kathy, and our lovely featured guest, Miss Pammy. And for the yummy maleness, The Wizard, Phin, and the villainous Air Marshall will pontificate. In addition, the travelling human incarnation of Puffy will also launch his usual retort of sorts.