Hello, My Name is Cheryl...and I'm a Hater...

It is nothing new for people to call me a hater. Heck, my family called me that long before it became a popular word in the "Urban Dictionary." Even my Twitter handle, CIH8U2, expresses my card-carrying hater status. I embrace the hater in me. Yet...am I really a hater?

Merriam-Webster (my go-to dictionary) defines a "hater" as "[1] one who expresses or feels extreme enmity or active hostility; [2] one who has a strong aversion to or finds something very distasteful." Urban Dictionary defines it as "A person that simply cannot be happy for another person's success. So rather than be happy they make a point of exposing a flaw in that person."
Let's examine that shall we.

I don't really hate people. Mostly, I need to get to know you before I will even dislike you. Okay, I'm lying. There are some people that just rub you the wrong way. I don't really care for them, I really don't want to meet them, and generally, spend most of my time trying not to think about them. Yet, their Stans won't let me be. I follow some pretty cool people, and I have some pretty cool followers on my Twitter Timeline. Then, there are the Stans. Not familiar with the term, well it's an allusion to Eminem's 2000 hit song "Stan." According to Urban Dictionary (hadn't quite made it to Merriam-Webster yet), a "stan" is "someone who is all up on their favorite artist's schlong, and can't take criticism or the slightest negative about said artist. But instead of "fans," they're called "Stans," get it?" [P.S. commas go inside the quotations marks Urban Dictionary].