Ode to a jerk

So the title is a vain attempt at keepin' it clean here. DH just came in and told me he had to help a sibling resolve a domestic matter, one that will likely end in police reports, drama and dissolve in tears. One of my very good friends pointed out that I have a severe dislike for men, more like a problem respecting them. I have male friends -- always have, always will. But those fellas have earned my respect by not being assholes. And to be frank, I think they are such a small percent of the male population that I don't know that I count them for being male -- other than the obvious differentiating factors. Don't you love how I drop slang, cursing and proper English all in one paragraph? Part of my twisted reality.

Now, this domestic drama my husband has ridden off to help with is one that's been brewing for years, and one technically that shouldn't even be happening. At least that's what the magic of divorce says. No such luck. Apparently, a man who was a dickhead in marriage maintains the propensity to be a dickhead in divorce. So many things I'm learning this week. I never liked the bastard -- not when he hit on me when I was pregnant and not when he found a way to secure time with me alone years later. Men like him are what make me suspicious and hateful. And the terrible thing is I hate who I become when I spend too much of my precious time thinking of these jerks. Abuse is not okay. PERIOD. The people I love are mine, and God help anyone who hurts them.

Jerks of the world, consider yourselves warned.