Okay. So that's a pretty harsh statement, I know.

But it unfortunately reflects my attitude this weekend after a nasty little Friday evening free-for-all with The Ex.

Apparently, it didn't take - what? a little less than a year since the divorce was final? - for his true colors to surface. And oh, are those colors unattractive on him. For the first time since I've known him, I actually found myself afraid of the man (and I use that term rather loosely), and uncertain as to what bad act he'll pull out next in an effort to intimidate me.

My day started like any other Friday - I was happy that the weekend was here - until I got into my car and noticed that the check engine light stayed on during my drive to work. I panicked, knowing I had to drive that evening to Terrell to get the kids. Ironically, I had planned to make the final payment on the crappy Mazda that very day. Isn't that always how these things happen? Sigh.

So I spent a frustrating day discovering that, while my divorce may have left me much better off emotionally, it put a whale of a bruise on my credit - to the point that I may not be getting a new car any time in the near future. But while that leaves me a little bummed out, it's definitely something I can still deal with.

The Ex already knew what was going on with the car, since we had spoken about it earlier in the day. He seemed fine then, mellow even, offering me suggestions, and seemed understanding when I said I didn't know whether I'd be driving out there or not, given that I was worried about having the car break down with the kids and me in it. We even joked a little about how he'd come and get us if the kids were with me, but if it was just me, he'd only help out depending on "how much I paid him".

It was 5:30 p.m. when I left the Mitsubishi dealership, and I hadn't eaten all day, so I stopped for food before I hit the road, sitting in the parking lot wolfing it down - when the cel phone rang.

That's when it got ugly. Uglier than it's ever gotten before.

He literally threatened to beat the shit out of me if I didn't pick up the kids. And that's when I freaked out.

Some of you may not know that I grew up in an extremely abusive environment. For the most part, though, I literally have no fear of a man hurting me. I know myself well enough to understand that I will never let a man lay a hand on me without serious consequences to his life. I watched that happen to my mother long enough to convince me that I would kill a man before I'd let him use me as a punching bag.

But lately, The Ex's behavior has been frightening to me in a way that I never experienced in fifteen years of marriage to him. I mentioned a few weeks ago that he screamed at me on the phone, saying some very vicious and disturbing things to me, things which upset me a great deal. It's gotten to the point where I will barely speak to him when he calls, even if he's is trying to "play nice". I simply no longer trust him, no longer recognize who he is.

A few months ago, I would have told you that, despite the fact that he left me for another woman, I was not bitter, did not wish him ill, and even was happy for him. But the crazier and more unpredictable his behavior becomes, the less inclined I am to think of him as a decent human being who deserves any level of happiness.

And all of this got me to thinking about every man that's ever been a part of my life, whether for a few years or a few months. Without a single exception, they've all proven to me that what appears on the surface is a far cry from what lies beneath. They've all disappointed me, and made me realize my faith in and love for them was undeserved.

My stepfather, of course, was the only one who I knew to be an asshole from day one (although he was great at keeping up appearances in front of his friends and family). So, in that respect, he didn't disappoint me, he merely showed me the most evil side of human nature. And I never had faith in him (except faith that he'd do terrible, unreasonable things), nor did I ever love him (dear God, he was the only person I have ever truly hated to the point of wishing dead). So I guess in that regard, he was different from all the others.

I know they say you shouldn't allow one bad experience with a man to color your attitude toward all men. But in my case, I'm not affected by a single experience with a single man. It's the sum total of all the relationships I've had with men that have put me in this negative mindset. Starting with my father, to my stepfather, to my first lover and all the way up until my most recent relationship, I see a very sad pattern emerging - a pattern that leads me to understand exactly why I've been hiding out here in this apartment, protecting myself from yet another relationship with yet another man who will disappoint me.

I have erected a wall between myself and F-B for that very reason. If I allow myself to think of him in any other terms than "casual", he too will prove to be unworthy. But I must confess that on Friday night, I picked up a hammer and knocked a few bricks out of that wall - when I called him in the midst of my upset. I let him into my personal life in a way I hadn't before, simply because I needed someone on my side, and there was no one else to call.

He was reassuring, comforting. Offered to drive me out there himself to get the kids. I could only imagine how that would go over, the questions that would arise - questions I'm not prepared to answer at all.

But, as it turns out, he also happens to know the sheriff in a particular county somewhere east of Dallas. A sheriff who asked for a few pieces of information that could help make life a little bit more difficult for certain people as they drive around that county.

It also probably won't hurt that I have family in that county, people who've lived there for generations, one of whom is a lawyer running for Criminal District Attorney.

While all of this was happening, I suddenly felt like we'd become the worst case of white trash domestic misbehavior ever seen - the likes which you only find on Cops or Jerry Springer. (And, oh did I mention another irony? F-B also knows Anna Nicole Smith. See? Southern white trash picture complete!)

Sigh. The Ex just had to let things get ugly. He should know better by now than to threaten me as he has done.

When you fuck with me, I don't play nice anymore.

So. The unfortunate by-product of all of this is that it has put me in a rather foul mood where men are concerned. I do expect it will pass in a few days, as it always does. I don't really think that all men are unworthy of my goodwill and trust and love - just the ones I've had the misfortune to run across, and frankly, a half-dozen men aren't representative of an entire population of them.

It would just be nice after thirty-seven years to finally find one who could prove to me that real men do exist. Men who know how to treasure a woman's heart, who appreciate the value in making her smile, who understand that the love of a woman is not something to be taken lightly, or trampled on, or beaten down.

Are there any of you out there?