So, I don't know how many people are familiar with the term or idea of a "hate fuck," but it's something my friends and I have referred to all through high school, college, and even well into adulthood. For those who've never heard of it, I suppose I owe a definition, especially to avoid any misconceptions about what it is. Briefly, it is a consensual sexual encounter in which an arrogant and stuck-up female used to getting her own way in everything is gently but firmly dominated by the male. A written definition might work for some people, but I suppose the best way to really get the point across is with a story about a real-life hate fuck. So here it is.
For me, that one woman who has consistently gotten under my skin with her pretentious attitude is my brother-in-law's wife, Kim. She's one of those women who knows she's hot and, when coupled with the fact that she comes from a very well to do family, results in her walking around with her nose in the air and generally putting down all those around her who she feels do not match her standards. When she's around me and the rest of my family, which thankfully isn't very often, we tend to be the target of her off-handed and usually derogatory comments. A couple weeks ago, for example, my brother-in-law and his lovely wife visited our home for a few days as it is roughly the halfway point between their home in Georgia and their vacation home in Northern Maine. The day they arrived just happened to be the same day that Lissy, my beautiful wife, and I purchased our new car. Shortly after they arrived and had a chance to unwind from the road, we all went outside to help our guests unload their luggage. Before we brought the bags in, my brother-in-law, Chris, stopped to inspect the car, remarking at how much he liked it. As most guys probably would, Chris and I popped the hood to take a look at the engine and we continued to banter back and forth about the features of our new vehicle. Meanwhile, Kim and Lissy had moved to the trunk of their car, making small talk and waiting for Chris and I to finish. Apparently we took too long for Kim, because she abruptly interrupted our conversation.
"Chris, come on please. It's just a Chevy. Move these bags into the house; I'm tired of standing around out here."
Lissy and I glanced at each other in shock as Chris turned away from the new Tahoe and dutifully walked to the back of his Lexus, shouldered the two duffel bags Kim pointed at, and marched off towards the front door of our house. Kim slammed the trunk and strode after him, hardly looking to her left or right as she went.
Later that same night, Chris and I were sitting around having a few beers and talking about the upcoming college football season. We were in the midst of a heated but friendly debate over whether this year's national champion would come from the Southeastern Conference while the ladies talked separately. Then, Lissy, wanting to show off her knowledge of the game to her brother, (something that makes me very proud), interjected a comment about the University of Florida's prospects. She had hardly finished speaking when Kim again made her presence known.
"Well, I hope you don't expect any commentary from me on this subject," she said, getting up from her chair. "I have much better things to do with my time than waste energy and brain cells on discussing the actions of a bunch of uneducated criminal types. Come and find me when you decide to talk about something a little more stimulating." And with that, she left the room. To me, it even sounded like she stomped her feet as she headed up the stairs.
"I guess I better follow her," Chris said as he drained his bottle of beer, a hint of irritation in his voice. And up the stairs he went.
The next night, we took our guests out to dinner. In the past, we had taken Chris and Kim to one of our favorite barbecue restaurants and a return trip had become one of Chris's standing requests for when they came to visit us. We pulled into a parking spot and Chris and Kim swung in beside us. I hadn't even had time to shut the engine off when Kim rolled down her window and motioned me to do the same. I must admit, I complied with a bit of hesitancy, expecting the worst.
"I'm not eating here," she said flatly. "Don't you people have something a bit more upscale?"
At this remark, I lost my cool. I suppose it had been building for a while with her previous antics, but this was too much.
"Sure we do Kim, and I'd be happy to point them out to you, right after we're finished eating some delicious barbecue. Your husband likes this place, I like this place, and Lissy likes this place. You said you liked it too, the last few times we've been here. Quit making things harder than they need to be and go along with what the group wants. It's not all about you."
Kim stared back at me for a minute, then got out of the car and walked to the door of the restaurant.
"Nice job, baby," Lissy said, squeezing my hand.
I was worried my outburst might put a damper on the rest of the evening, but it didn't. In fact, I think it loosened things up. After dinner, we returned to the house and spent a few hours talking and relaxing. A couple times through the evening, I caught Kim looking at me a bit strangely, but I didn't think anything of it. By 11 or so, everyone retired to bed.
I arose very early the next morning and headed downstairs to the basement where I have a minigym set up. It's a treadmill, a pull-up bar mounted on the wall, and a bunch of free weights. I had just finished a good 30 minute run on the treadmill and stepped off to begin my lifting routine when I heard the door to the room creak slightly, as if someone was slowly opening it. I turned to look but didn't see anyone; the door was still pretty much closed. I selected the dumbbell I needed and moved to the lifting bench, when I heard the door creak again. This time when I looked I almost dropped the weight on my foot because of surprise. Kim stood in the doorway, wearing what looked like the bottoms to her bikini bathing suit paired with a sports bra.
"Good morning," she said a hint of nervousness in her voice. "I wanted to get a workout in, but didn't feel like going to the sports club, so I thought I'd just do it here. I hope you don't mind."
"No, not at all," I replied, stretching the truth a bit. "Are you sure this place meets your standards?"
She smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry for last night. I guess I was a bit over the top. Can you forgive me?"
"I could forgive you easier if it was just last night," I responded. "But it seems like you act like that all the time when you're around my family and I."
"I guess I am a little hard to take some times," she admitted, looking down at the floor. "Other people have said the same thing. I don't know how to change," she trailed off as if deep in thought.
