I hate my ex-husband.
Blah blah blah loser blah blah blah hate him blah blah blah die blah blah blah fiery death blah blah blah waste blah blah fucker blah.
And I hate that I’m the bigger person (hee. No really. I AM!) and invite him to shindigs of his childrens’ that he hasn’t ever earned the privilege of being invited to and I hate that he jumps at these opportunities to play daddy when other people are there to see it but fucking ignores them when no one is observing and I hate that the kids don’t ever say “Don’t invite him, Mom, cuz I hate him, too” cuz they don’t hate him even though they should.
AND. I hate that my husband, the one who makes it possible to even HAVE these shindigs, the one who pays for it all, can’t come because HE has to WORK, a concept that is entirely foreign to the Loser who will be sitting there soaking up the glory and I hate hate hate him so bad that it makes my mouth taste sour.
And I hate that I have to sit there and smile and can’t tell him what a fucking joke of a human he is because I love my kids more than I hate him and I won’t ruin their time just to make myself feel better even though I want to with almost every cell in my being. I’d like to scream it in front of all those people who believe the lies he spreads about paying child support and how I’m the one who keeps his kids from him and cashes the checks that he doesn’t send and won’t answer the phone that never rings and that doesn’t tell him about school functions that he doesn’t care about.
I want to. And I won’t. I’ll smile and make small talk and be polite to his family who all hate me now and I’ll talk to him about the weather and it’ll be a grand old time.
All the while that I’m 8 hours away from Master. Because he has to work. And I’ll miss him. And I’ll think of him and I’ll tell myself that he’d be proud and he’d tell me to hold my head high and behave myself- and I will.
But I hate my ex-husband. Blah blah fucking-blah.