I hate you, now and forever-Part II

I can only guess, based on your behavior in the past couple of weeks, that you have somehow lost or misplaced the memo informing you that our marriage is over, I am no longer of any concern to you.  I am free to live my life without any interference from you.

I hate you with a passion that burns brighter and hotter than the sun.

Regardless of whether it is lost or misplaced or totally slipped your mind, I will take a few minutes out of my busy day to remind you, yet again, our divorce was final 18 months ago.  When that divorce was granted, I was freed from you, much like the slaves were freed by Abraham Lincoln.  By signing off on the divorce, thereby agreeing to the terms and conditions within it, you stated that you no longer cared about me, and that I was free to live my life without interference from you.  I am sure, (but not 100% positive, as I don’t have the papers directly in front of me, but I can get them) that it even states in the divorce papers that we are both free to live our own lives without any interference from the other.

In case you missed it, I hate you. Now and for always.

Now, once again, I’m just guessing here, but since you told me last week just how sorry you felt for Hondo because he’s with me, I can only speculate (I know it’s a big word, have your girlfriend help you look it up) that you were trying to figure out where he lives this weekend so that you could go to his place and offer your condolences for ending up with me.  I thought maybe you wanted to take him out for a few beers so the two of you could sit around, get sloppy drunk, and commiserate about how awful life is with me.  The problem with that scenario is that Hondo and I aren’t living together and he’s pretty fucking happy with the way things are between us.

Just to refresh your memory, I hate you, now and for always.

For someone who loves his privacy as much as you do, (You’re always snooping around, chasing people down for driving past your house, everything in your life is nobody’s business) you are pretty blatant about invading my privacy and Hondo’s too.  You don’t even think twice about coercing your daughters into ratting out their friend and making them tell you where he lives just so you can drive by.   You seem to be pretty damned obsessed with my life.  You were with me for 10 years, you begged and pleaded to come back, not once but twice and you continually fucked it up.  Then you claimed to hate me, you were glad to get rid of me.  Now I’m The Fucking Bitch (who just happened to give birth to your only 2 children) and yet you can’t seem to let go, and get a life of your own.  

I hate you with every ounce of my being, for now and for ever.

You really went and fucked it up this time asshole.  Taxes are coming up, and I know you’re going to want to get yours done so that you can get that great big refund and blow all that fucking money (just like you to be in such an all fired hurry to blow your wad).  Well, guess what.  You’re going to need my signature on some papers so that you can claim Tate on your taxes.  Oh, that’s going to cost you.  AND you’re going to want to claim Tate’s child care expense as well (even though you didn’t pay any of our sitters one red cent for Tate’s child care, since the day she was born) and well, I just don’t see how I’m going to be inclined to help you out there.  You seem to forget, especially when you start fucking around in my life, that there always, Always, ALWAYS comes a time when you need me, and I hold all the cards and all the power and I couldn’t care any less.  I will gladly turn my back and not give you a damn thing you want or need and fuck you over.  And I will enjoy it.  Maybe, next time you’ll think twice before fucking around in my personal life.  I doubt it, but until I die, there will be hope.

Oh, and did I mention, I hate you, really, really hate you, now and forever? I do.

More than anything in the world, I really wish like hell I could rewind my life, or be granted a do-over.  I would go back to our first date, when you showed up 4 minutes late.  That really was no big deal.  But I should have listened to my gut that night.  You didn’t care enough about the date, to tuck in your shirt, or dress nicely, or even take off your hat.  I should have run when you couldn’t even find the restaurant you wanted to take me to, and I had to give you directions.  I should have really gotten the hint when you walked me to the door, and stayed UNTIL 4:00 AM and I finally had to tell you, GO HOME!  And if all of that wasn’t enough, I really should have paid attention when I went out with friends a few nights later and came home to 20 – count ‘em 20 voice mail messages on my phone wondering where I was and what I was doing.  

In case you missed it before, I’ll tell you again.  I hate you now and for always.