For a short time, I hated men.
I hated them so much that I bought a key chain at the dollar store that said:
Oh yeah, I was plenty honked off.
I had much to pull from by the age of 27, thanks to having attracted a bunch of asshats my entire courting life. Not one of them, from my first real boyfriend to my daughters biological father, had treated me with respect.
Um, sock it to me.
My father had been a good man. He treated my mother like the alpha that she is. He was a continuous role model for us kids growing up. He was always polite, full of etiquette, and besides the occasional gaseous explosion, had impeccable manners.
(This is why I can act like a lady when need be. How do you do? See?)
The day I left my ex, I swore to myself that I would never let…
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