Irrational Hatred

Hate is a strong word… and one I don’t really want to use very often to be honest. It’s as strong a word as Love in my mind and can carry a slew of degrees of meaning.
Like vs Love | Slightly off Kilter

We all have things we hate and most would disagree that our hatred of the same is irrational. I mean CLEARLY we have a reason for the intense feelings we have for said object or thing, right? So I was struggling this morning to decide what to write for today’s Come play in May prompt.

And then a story popped into my mind. One I’ve told a bajillion times. And maybe, just maybe it fits here…

It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving a few years back. 2002 to be exact. I had class that night. The giant was 2 – almost 3. Mini-me was about 6 months old. We had company coming into town and mom was going to keep the giant with her but the ex needed to keep mini-me. Mom never was one to want to be the baby-loving Nana. She preferred a bit more independence. Always has.

I got a call just before class from the ex telling me that he was going to go to dinner with “Some of the guys from work.”

I remember asking him about the baby to which he stated he’d just take him with them. I don’t know why I asked at the time but I managed to ask where they were going. He told me Plucker’s and I remember thinking “great atmosphere for a baby” but I just said ok.

As luck would have it, only a handful of us actually showed for class and it was promptly cancelled. I was overjoyed and immediately called the ex. He actually answered {shocking looking back} and I told him class was cancelled.

I expected something like “Great! We just ordered. Come join us.” I don’t know WHY I expected that, but I did. I would have even expected “Great! Come get the baby.” But that’s not what I heard either.

I got “Ok.”

That was it. I didn’t know how to process this response… or lack thereof. So, I offered. “Want me to come get the baby?”

“No. He’s fine.”

Now, let me clarify for a minute. There are many many many men out there that are remarkable fathers and daddies. This reply coming from one of them would have been normal or expected and the wife in that type of scenario would have been free to enjoy her newly free evening with friends or family or in solitude. That scenario is NOT the case because at this juncture of our lives, the ex could not be bothered to even change a diaper much less care for our child.

This brief reply elevated every red flag within me and I began to feel a panic in the pit of my stomach.

I ended the call and then as if on autopilot, I drove. I didn’t even know which location they were at. I went to the first location and drove through the parking lot but didn’t see our car. I went to the next location I could think of and there it was.

I should not have been this panicked – after all, he was at dinner with “some guys from work” so what’s the big deal right? Except I somehow knew differently.

I don’t know where the courage and grace came from, but I walked through the restaurant doors and scanned the room for my baby.

Not far away, at a cozy little table for two sat a young blond with short hair and my husband. With our child. My child.

Again, not sure how the hell I pulled this off without causing a scene, but I walked straight over where they were laughing and sharing some french fries, picked up mini-me, looked my ex dead in the eye and said simply “I guess I’ll see you at mom’s in a bit then.” I didn’t wait for his answer before turning and walking out the door.

I haven’t stepped foot in a Pluckers since.

And I won’t.

I love hot wings, and I’m sure theirs are lovely, but when a place hold that strong of a memory, I can’t help but hate it. HATE.

I’m sure that there are many of you nodding and saying that this is completely rational and you would feel the same. And yet…

Pluckers isn’t responsible for the infidelity. Pluckers didn’t pair these two together. Pluckers didn’t shatter all my dreams of the perfect life by forcing me to see truth.

They are just collateral damage.

The ironic thing is I no longer hate my ex. I should right? I mean it WAS his fault… except that I don’t. That takes too much energy. Oh sure, he still pisses me off from time to time {Exes are exes for a reason} but he doesn’t deserve the amount of energy it would take to hate him. I accept him for who he is. But the innocent little restaurant that started the collapse? They still receive my irrational hatred.

Sorry Pluckers.

As for the ex… that night he came home around 3am. Guess he figured since he got caught, he might as well go whole hog and add karaoke and drinks to the evening plans since he no longer had a baby to care for.

He still claims that it wasn’t a date and that he didn’t lie to me. She was after all someone he worked with and apparently “other guys” were supposed to join them but flaked out. Don’t even get me started on this one.


Axis of Ineptitude

Looking for the whole list of prompts? They are in text form and image so you can Come Play In May!



  1. Anonymous says

    After reading this blog…and the one from earlier entitled “Raw”…I have decided we need all hands on deck to address this matter. Shelley…you need to post this man’s current address on here…or Facebook…or wherever the most response will be generated. The rest of us will take it from there.
    1. Everyone that reads this must fill out and send in at least 3 magazine subscription cards on this idiot’s behalf. You know the annoying little inserts that fall out in your lap when you read a magazine….yeah…that…fill it out and send it in for a 3 year subscription for this guy. Send all the good ones he’ll enjoy: Glamour, Cosmopolitan, Gay Pride Gazette, Woman’s Day, etc. He’ll soon get magazines out the wazoo…and then shortly thereafter…a bill! He’ll have so much fun calling each one to explain HE didn’t order the magazines.
    2. For the cherry on top….I will pledge $100 per month in his name and address to the Benny Hinn Ministries Network. They will send collection notices for an eternity! He will NEVER get rid of those people…they are like vultures on a dead carcass! Who’s with me?????

  2. You had far more composure than I would have had in that situation.

  3. Oh… yeah, your irrational hatred of Pluckers is similar to my irrational hatred of strippers. Only without the baby or the hot wings. Mmm. Hot wings. We should meet at WingStop next time I’m home.

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