Husband Hate
September 11, 2007
My husband, the one and only person I can hate, elicits many malicious reactions. The kind of hatred I describe floods out of my interior toward whatever is nearest. The kind of hate that forces my eyebrows to touch. The kind of hate that draws the edges of my mouth toward my breasts. The kind of hate that compels me to jump up and down shouting “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” while stomping my feet and flailing my arms. The kind of hate that makes me glad I don’t own a gun or straight razor. The kind of hate that endorses atrocious and horrendous insults. I can see why your ex-wife left you. I’ve seen bigger. You’re so stupid fucking, you can’t tell I fake orgasms. Bob in accounting invited me to lunch [I work for myself]. And the quintessential, we’d be better off without you. Plus simply,
I hate you. I wish you were dead.
How do I recover from such hatred? Each time I find myself back in my man’s arms, I wonder how I got there. I’m surprised that from stomping, cursing and thinking murderous thoughts. From I hate this man, this man must die, this man must move out to this man never has to be reminded to take out the trash and this man makes a quite fine French style omelet. Including this man does a damn good impression of Zoolander then to this man looks delectable from behind. Then I get around to this man held my daughter as she took her first breath. And finally to I love you.
Husband Hate Notations
• You gotta deal with your baby’s daddy whether you are together or not so REAP the benefits. Fuck leaving him, then you ONLY get the shit.
• Punch only pillows.
• Make sure the kids know who taught them how to cuss—Grandpa.
• Remember to say HAPPY BUTTDAY, BABY!
