Why the haters hate me

I’ve finally figured it out. It’s on accounta Facebook. I’ve proclaimed my love for my woman with no sense of public decorum. The haters feel it’s ‘politically incorrect’ to do so. That’s sexual politics for you.

“You simply can’t do something in public you should be doing in private.”

That’s the feedback I’m getting.

Oh, the feedback from the youngsters, and I don’t mean teen-agers mind you, but rather the people whoever they are, whatever age they are, that are still fresh in love, still youngsters on the love spectrum, no matter how many years they’ve been together, they don’t mind. They understand the youthful ebullience.

These couples hold hands often and sleep like two spoons snug in a drawer at night.

The haters don’t even have this going on. The haters can take a flying leap as far as I’m concerned, on accounta I figured out why they hate.

It works out like this:

If it’s a female hater it starts when she sees a post. I send Barb a song. She sees that and says to herself,

“Gee, Sean, Bob, Rick, Whoever, never sends me a song on Facebook.” Naturally it gets back to her man. She’s dissatisfied.

Sometimes I get real goofy. It’s because I’m crazy in love you see. Then I make some kind of grand gesture like write our names in colored chalk on a public sidewalk and put a heart around it. Since it’s temporary, even if this is California, we still get rain you know. So I take a picture.

Say, this isn’t some teenagers in the 20’s through 50’s carving their initials on the old oak tree. And it’s not some Vandals vandalizing Rome. I’m a certified X hippy Tree-hunger and finally mature enough to respect public property. In a week it will be gone with the wind. So I record the moment before it’s lost forever. What the Hell is wrong with that?

What’s wrong, the haters say, is that I posted it on Facebook. I shouldn’t be acting like this they say. I’m too old to act like this they say. You know where to stuff it I say. Now hear this haters: You have just now, in public, nation-wide and world-wide, been told where to stuff it.

Every time a male hater sees my posts he knows he’s got trouble. He remembers he hasn’t stuffed a love-note into his woman’s lunch for months. He doesn’t know the names of her favorite nail polishes either. Barb’s is ‘Butter’. Naturally, I do these kinds of thing, but keep a secret. The haters would resent  me.

Last of all, because I usually have no money, I have to use my imagination when it comes to grand gestures. When my woman was going to work one day she asked me to straighten up the shoes in her closet. There were so many! It took some time and while I was going at it a wild idea sprung to mind.

This will prove to you that I’m way off my romantic rocker and probably should turn myself in to a mental institution, I schlep  a few dozen pairs of high-heels, tennis, and flip-flops into the living room and arrange them on the carpet in a pattern that spells out her name. I take a picture to preserve the moment. That’s it. You’ve seen it. It’s in this blog somewhere.

So ladies, admit it. Come clean. Confess. Wouldn’t you like your man to do something as crazy as this for you?

Rich Saudi princess just tell their secretaries, “My wife called and hinted her birthday is coming up. Send her a Rolls with a red-ribbon around it, will you? Take it out of petty cash.”

They don’t spend enough time on their women. That’s why the Arab revolt will never really get off the ground. Every viable revolution engages their women. They never ignore them.

Not me. Not this hot monkey with hot monkey love in his heart.

But the haters are still hating so I say, “Let them eat Hate”

Maybe soon it will eat them right up. Because I’m nowhere near finished.

I need more than a sign to proclaim my love for Barbara. I want to hire a sky-writer to write it all over the sky. She’s lucky I don’t own the Good Year blimp. I want everyone in the known world to understand my situation and the blessing she gave me, the tools to help me examine my own self. I want them to know about her goodness and strength of heart. I guess that’s how love is. You want to proclaim it from the highest mountain to tell all the people on Earth because God already knows.

That’s one thing about love; it has no age limits, no bar codes, no expiration dates, and no age restrictions.

So let this be a warning to all you haters out there. Take a long walk on a short pier.

I’m not backing down.

©StevenHunley2015

https://youtu.be/nvlTJrNJ5lA I won’t back down