Direct Hate Towards The Deceiver

Originally Written (June 11, 2006)

Friday night after a day of relaxing, and hanging out with some people from church, I came home expecting a party, but it was actually quiet. I grabbed my sunflower seeds and water and headed to the patio to chill. While chewing on my seed and sipping on my water people started to join me on the patio. A roommate of mine showed up with two of his buddies and the neighbor girls joined me on the patio. After awhile a gay man and three girls came over. The girls with him looked like they could have been my students, middle schoolers. At first I thought it was weird to see girls so young with a bunch of college students. Soon after their arrival the man with them and one of the girls started to ask if someone could go buy the girls some beer. With this comment I now assumed the gay man was under 21. The guy started saying, “Come on, I’m sure one of them would give a blow job to anyone who buys them beer.” I remained silent during this time of searching for a buyer. After everyone had turned them down the girl turned to the only person of the patio without a beer, me, and proposes her question to me. At first I was silent, trying to think through how I wanted to word my response. The only thing I could say was, “No.” and with that I stood up and walked away.

I started to become angry and extremely upset at what just happened. Usually I try to work through these frustrations on my own, but this time I had to call my dad. Sure it was late 11:45 PM, but he was just getting off work. I asked him what kind of parents have a child and do not watch out for them.

I remembered how when I was growing up mom and dad were in the know. They were in the know of what was going on in their child’s life. My parents knew the parents of my friends, the music I listened to, and they knew where I was. So this is why I asked my dad that question. He gave a response that made some sense to me, and then directed the conversation another way.

The next morning I told my pastor about what went on the previous night. My pastor was able to put in words what had been upsetting me the whole morning. “Direct that hate or anger towards its author.”

Many times growing up I was told, “Hate the sin love the sinner.” I understood this concept but had never faced things that really urked me until this past year.