** spoiler alert **
Have you ever tried to categorize everything you hate? Matthew DiBenedetti has. And he hates everything. Well, almost everything. About half-way through I started feeling like maybe "hate" was a strong word and Matthew DiBenedetti was over-using it, and really, what kind of person hates everything? But then I started identifying with him (he made me nostalgic for Milli Vanilli!?) and there were things in the hate that I hated, too, or at least made me laugh and I thought, oh hey, we are kindred spirits. But then Matthew DiBenedetti made sure that was never going to happen when he hated those of us who purported to understand him. Yeah, ok, I get it. He's a little prickly. Secretly, I don't think he hates everything all the time (with vehemence!), because it's not conducive to his lifestyle. I feel like I should say, "I hated this book," except that I didn't. Much.
I hate parents who don’t talk about anything else but their kids.
I hate that I don’t have kids to have anything to talk about with them.
I hate that you now know that I don’t have kids.
I hate that you’ve already assumed that I don’t have kids.
I hate you for making me think about the snot-nosed brats I still don’t have.
I hate kids.