Summer Story Contest 2012 | Runner-up: Two Birds

First, I hated the office manager. It was, if I do say so, a pretty good rage -- all those sleepless nights enumerating her shortcomings. But then she got canned, which sullied the experience. When I thought it was just me, our relationship meant something, but after I discovered that others hated her too, well, then it just felt cheap.

Next, I hated my secretary, Lindsay. She had a very withholding personality. Specifically, she withheld making mistakes. For 10 months she never screwed up, and there's nothing I like more than catching someone screwing up. When she finally did make an error, I fired her immediately.

My boss, Janet, expressed concern. Apparently, everyone loved Lindsay.

My boss' concern enraged me, obviously. But my feelings didn't blossom into murderous wrath until after a management meeting, when she pulled me aside and said that although she liked the idea I presented, she preferred that I'd say "plant two trees with one seed" instead of "killing two birds with one stone."

"Suck it, Janet," I said.

That same night, Janet fired me, the most Minnesotan way possible, via e-mail. The subject line read "Taking a Break." As in I would be taking a break from being employed. She ended her e-mail "Thanks!"

Crawling into bed I told Lars, my boyfriend, that we were reduced to one salary.

"Two trees with one seed doesn't even make sense," I said.

"I still can't get over that she ended it with an exclamation point. What a whore," Lars said.

I used to feel that Lars and I were made for one another. The only thing he likes more than hating his coworkers is hating my coworkers. This almost makes up for the fact that he is named Lars.

But it doesn't. His name is something I hold against him.

Periodically hating your lover is underrated. For example, everyone lauds "make-up sex" but few people appreciate "I still hate you" sex.

That's too bad because "I still hate you" sex is better than post-forgiveness sex. Forgive someone and the next thing you're doing is peppering forced moans with strained this-is-me-being-meaningful looks or cries of "yes, that's right."

But "I still hate you sex" liberates you to say things like "No, Lars, that's not right. Not right at all. How many times do we have to go over this? You had me show you what I wanted. Now do what I want."

It was sex like that that made me think Lars and I had what it took.

Two weeks ago, I was still so sure that we were right for one another that even when he suggested that I turn my rage against Janet into a "rage against poverty" I took it as a deliberate attempt to piss me off and get me into bed.

I knew he couldn't have been serious. Where's the honesty in raging against an idea? You can't slash the tires of "corporate greed" or flip off "childhood hunger." Our truth has always been found in the purity of hating other people.

But then Lars betrayed me. I called and read him a rejection letter from a recent job prospect and he, and I'm not kidding, said that maybe I should've been "more positive" during the interview.

And then, crushingly, he added, "I might be late tonight. I'm going out for a drink with a coworker."

"Who?" I demanded.

"Pete," He said.

"Pete?" I yelled. "Pete Who Replies All? PowerPoint Pete?!"

And then after a weak, blonde pause, with these three little words he ended it: "He seems ... nice."