Mornin’, Haters! Rough night?
I’ve been watching you, you inconveniences of the human race! You interferences en route to the happiness of my own! I’ve caught you sticking foreign objects into the spokes of my fellow dreamers’ rides, for reason you don’t even know yourself. Around this town, you slither, dropping banana peels out of your back pockets as if they were horse shit. I’ve heard you hiss and gloat at others’ defeat, chiming in your hateful sounds into the collective white noise that hangs above LA-LA like a toxic rainbow.
What? You think life’s unfair?! You think you deserve better?! Perhaps. Most likely, yes, actually; for life could always be a lil’ bit better, or easier, or more just. But you’ll be getting bupkis, if you continue to reach for a piece of someone else’s happiness. You gotta make your own, you see. Play your own game. Place your own bets. Cast your risky ballots. So, let me do you this favor and tell you what you look like; because no matter how pretty the wrapping, a hater — is always a nature’s disgrace. Now, you don’t wanna be that, do ya?!
As for you, my magnificent dreamers: Take notes!
— A single hater — is easy to pick out; for whatever smoothness they may possess in a social setting, they are always accompanied by a slight stench of discomfort. It may be disguised behind a narrowing of their eyes or a hideous, strained smile. Beauty always sets off a certain discomfort in their skin. So, they start shooting the comparing looks and tagging on their own clothes. That’s the moment in which their self-hatred becomes so unbearable — they better start looking to blame someone else for it.
— When they speak — insincerity is their spiel. Some of them think they are so suave, with their forced compliments and eager nodding! All you gotta do — is do The Fake Walkaway. Besides sex, it’s my favorite sport, my gorgeous comrades, and it goes like this: You wrap up the chat, excuse yourself and swing your proud head in the direction of your fake destination. Then, count to three and quickly look back. The spiteful stare that you’ll witness will make your skin crawl, so brace yourself, my dreamers, and start groping for your own forgiveness and esteem.
— A ballsier hater will address you with a pet name. See the following list: “honey” or “hun”; “missy” or “Miss Thang”; “look atcha” or that annoying “aah” sound, as if they were looking at babies.
— Female haters — a special category. To me, it’s the most fascinating and heartbreaking one. They glare at beautiful girls from behind the rims of their martini glasses. If confronting beauty face to face, they linger before smiling (if at all!); and even then, that smile is so painful, their faces appear pumped-up with Botox or novocaine. It is beyond their ability to pay a compliment that’s not back-handed. Here are some samples:
“Pretty dress,” — (sometimes, they start pecking with their hands at the mentioned frock) — “Whereja get it? Forever 21?”
“I love your eyebrows!” They squint and lean in. “But they’re a bit crooked though.” And then: THEY TOUCH YOU! Some haters are big on touching: It’s their way of testing just much they can violate your boundary.
“Nice hair!” “Nice” is a female hater’s favorite adjective; and they say it as if whining a bit. Sometimes, a “nice” is accompanied by a raising of eyebrows, or a rolling of the eyeballs, or a chuckle. Other times, they may even pat your shoulder blade. But on the receiving end of it, these gestures always make you feel like a leper.
— Some haters hang in packs, kinda like hungry hyenas, waiting for the scraps of a lion’s dinner. You can always observe them congregate: hissing at the same round table at Starbucks, or hugging the walls of a dance floor, or giving tiny blow jobs to their cigarettes while being quarantined from the healthier mortals. In packs, they’re slightly braver and maybe even sadistic. So, beware when passing them: Hold your own and be prepared to retaliate!
— Speaking of a comeback: The only way to handle a single hater — or a pack of ‘em — is to call ‘em out. Here, the good news is you needn’t be mean or vindictive. What freaks out a hater the most — is honesty. So, you see, my glorious creatures, it’s not about defending yourself. It’s about confronting atrocious human behavior with self-possession and truth. All you do — is call it like it is:
“You sound condescending,” or “Is that a back-handed compliment?” usually gets a hater to panic, for they’re weasely fuckers.
“Is there a problem?” or “Do you have something to say to me?” just might give ‘em a heart attack.
But I must confess here: It’s a little bit fun to watch them scramble for excuses and less than eloquent explanations of their original meanings. It’s the only pleasure I get out of handling a hater, bare-handedly.
Besides that, my beautiful boys ‘n’ girls — you dreamers that make this fucking planet worth treading! — I treat dem haters like a herpes-infected piece of chewed-up and discarded gum: Avoid touching ’em with my hands, scrape ‘em off the bottom of my fancy shoe and leave ’em on the side of the road!