A Very Partial List Of All The Men I’ve Hated
By Katie Tastrom-Fenton
Content warning: Sexual violence
I hate the man who sexually assaulted me when I was 14. I don’t even know if “sexually assaulted” is the right phrase? What do you call it when a full grown man says he’ll pay you $5 to kiss him and because you are young and stupid and always looking for adventure you agree except instead he lifts up your shirt and starts sucking on your nipples and then tries to put his hand down your pants and you try to run but he holds on to you and you kick and kick and kick and finally you get away and run and swipe a pack of his cigarettes on the way out and at the time still maybe think it was worth it for the cigarettes? Whatever you call that, that’s what it was.
I hate the guidance counselor who said that I wasn’t allowed to go to alternative school even though regular high school was horrible and boring and people called me a “dyke” all the time. So instead I just dropped out of school. The next year I found out that the same guidance counselor was sleeping with a student who was also the daughter of one of the social studies teachers. The teacher punched the guidance counselor in the face. Not being there to see that is the only thing I regret about leaving high school when I did. I saw the guidance counselor and the daughter holding hands just a few years ago when I was home.
I hate the boyfriend who lied to me about stupid stuff and lied to other people about stupid stuff about me. He also gave me several STIs, because he was cheating on me.
I hate a lot of men who pretend like I’m invisible because I am not their idea of “hot.” Since I got fat, this is most of them. I especially hate the ones who pretend like they have good politics around feminism but then can’t even remember my name after coming to my own house several times, but remember the name of the hot hairdresser girl who is probably a Republican after meeting her once.
I hate all the legal aid men who haven’t given me jobs.
I hate almost every man I went to law school with (for obvious reasons).
I hate the “friend” whose hand I woke up to inside my vagina after falling asleep on the couch at the house he lived at with some of my other friends. Even more I hate the men that he lived with that knew about it, but didn’t say or do anything. (I was too scared to say anything to them; apparently this happened not infrequently and other people said something. I hate that I didn’t say anything to everyone at the time, but this isn’t about what I hate about myself, that would take a whole book.)
I hate Seth McFarlane.
I hate the men who contributed to me feeling like I am not funny because my humor doesn’t revolve around dick jokes and nonsense words. I hate the male comedians who have made a career out of just saying the most offensive thing possible with no thought to nuance or wit or actual joke crafting. Honestly, lately, I hate these men the most.
I hate the several guy friends I used to have who would only call me when they needed something (advice, counseling, money).
I hate George W. Bush, et al.
I hate the other man whose hand I woke up to find in my vagina. (It’s so great being a woman!)
I hate the narcissist boss I had who made everything about him and would literally sit for three hours in my office to talk about himself and how great he is (spoiler: he’s not that great). I hate that I had to indulge him and kiss his ass to make sure I had a job.
I hate the man that just a second ago interrupted me to pretend to know stuff. Sitting here typing furiously (in two senses of the word) obviously means that I want a lecture about the photograph hanging above the booth I happen to be seated in at this suburban bar/restaurant. Yeah dude, me nodding politely and looking away while saying “uh huh” definitely means I want to hear more misinformation about the Erie Canal.