I hate boys

For those of you who read my last blog there is a epilogue from the Mr. Smarmy McSmarmyson story. A day and a half later, after I was completely and joyfully honest with him, he messaged me one last message.

“And he forgot to tell you that he’s married too,” was all it said.

I didn’t return the message. I pushed the not interested button and then sat there, crinkled up my face again and thought about his message. Okay, number one, did he mean himself and he was just being a complete douche and writing in third person? Oh crap, I hate when people write about themselves in the third person. Allison hates this. Allison thinks it is creepy and she would appreciate it not to happen again. Although, come to think of it, I do write my facebook statuses (statusi?) in third person, but I am funny and cute and he is just kind of a dickhead without manners, so it’s alright when I do it. Right?

Number two, did he think this would make me feel better or worse about myself? Was I supposed to think, “Oh man, what a great guy who is already taken! I shall never love again! Alas, boohoohoohoo.” Or perhaps I was supposed to think, “Whew, thanks for telling me that, oh honest and genuine guy that you are, I almost called you and begged to meet you because I have the self esteem of a Ziploc baggie.” I hate boys.

Today during my fifth period ninth grade English class, my Alpha-male totally acted up and pissed me off to know end. He’s a mini-misogynist and a full sized pain in the ass. The snarky oversized teen decided he would play catch with an orange while I was discussing what was going to be on the test tomorrow. I asked him to stop and put it away. Twice. I then said, either put it away or give it to me. So, he stood up and threw it across the room into the garbage can. Alright, he made the shot because he is like, the star basketball player, but he threw it across the room into the garbage can. Across the heads of all of the other students. Are we getting a visual here? A student remarked how he was just wasting food and I remarked how he would rather just throw it away than hand it to me.

There was once I asked him to reach something for me, because he is six feet tall and I am five foot five. He flatly said no and walked out the door. I stopped him and told him that wasn’t going to fly in my classroom. He told me he didn’t have to respect me just because I was his teacher. He told me that I had to give respect to get respect. I asked him didn’t that go for him as well? I also told him that he didn’t have to like me but yes, he did have to respect me. I also told him that I had never shown disrespect to him in MY classroom because I am a grownup. Stupid kid...I have called his father twice. Yep, just as bad. Full grown misogynist. I hate boys.

Henry the MALE cat scratched Dash and me tonight. I know he is still a kitten but the biting and scratching thing, dear god, I have never had a cat like this. I would love to get him declawed but know that is not the nice thing to do, but I am at my wits end with him. He wakes me up at 3am and if I lock him out of my room he scratches on my door. Loudly. He also gets pissed if I lock him in my room when company is over. He has defiled my bedspread twice. I hate boys.

I am on a good premenstrual rant here. Normally I become a bit introspective and melancholy but every once in awhile, I just get pissed. I get where nothing is funny and am I a complete bitch and I don’t like anyone and I even tell my kids that mommy needs a time out. I hate when mommy needs a time out. My children seem confused by this. It is times like these, and when I throw a five year old's birthday that ends up having thirty people at it and forgot to get a bag of ice and have no way of running out and getting it because the Castle-bouncer delivery guy should be here any minute; times like these, I kind of wish I still had a partner to lean on. Vaccination time, when I have strep throat or just when I am so sad I just want to be held by someone taller than me whose arms reach all the way around my waist. Someone who can stand up and hold me and my head rests just under their chin and you feel them smelling your hair. Maybe I do want that. Maybe just a part time kind of “that”. Can you order that on EBay?

I was pretty okay today, except for the misogynist miscreants at my school. The rant seemed to have begun today when I got to the gym to do cardio on my favorite treadmill. The one under the Gandhi quote, “We must become the change we want to see.” I love that quote. I even wrote an entire blog about it for the New Year (yes, go read it after this one).

So, there I was, burning off my anxiety of the day, listening to Pandora on my phone because I had forgotten to charge my iPod and the Rihanna/M&M song, “Love the Way You Lie” came on. I was at the end of thirty minutes of cardio and the words were blasting loudly in my head. I found my focus was no longer on the treadmill but on the words from the song. Some memories drifted, or rather erupted back into my head. Flashbacks I try not to think about anymore. I found myself getting more irate by the moment. Furious and then infuriated at myself for getting pissed off in the first place. Why now? Why not three years ago? I still get mad at it all sometimes, but for some reason this was different. I can’t explain it, I can’t interpret it, I can’t decipher it. I guess no matter how far I get past it all, that is one boy I will just hate. I have forgiven myself and have tried to forgive him but you can’t forgive someone who is remorseless. Can you?

Deep sigh. Breathe in and out. Woooo-saaaah.

And now, boys that I actually like are asleep and my rant is coming to a close. My normally funny and irreverent humor is on hiatus. I listened to M&M while writing this and then switched to something more soothing like the Sex Pistols and Green Day. No, just kidding. Well, kind of.

Tomorrow I will try not to hate boys so much. Maybe I will go online and order a six foot tall cute boy to stand under so I can be held and have my head rest against a cute chin. And then, if god is a woman, he will turn into a pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream and all will be right with my world.