I’ve been a little lax on my blogging lately, mainly due to the fact that I’m trying to finish a book. I never was any good with time management. Go figure, I know. I have the tendency to sucked into something and allow the rest of the world to fall away. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but I like to think its part of what makes me a decent fiction writer. At least that’s one of the things I tell myself so I don’t have to feel bad about not keeping up with other things…like my blog. : )
So here’s something both old and borrowed to make up for my shameless neglect. I’ve added the something blue via visual aids, though I’m not sure why I have wedding themed nonsense rattling around in my brain. Considering the subject matter of the post is Jealousy, it’s hardly themed appropriate, but then again neither am I most of the time so perhaps it fits just fine.
Jealousy…why do you have to bother me?
Now I’ll be the first to admit I’m far from perfect, but I have never suffered from nor understood this particularly annoying emotion. Perhaps there’s someone out there who can make me understand, but I suggest you come fully prepared to go to the mat along with a sales pitch unlike any other.
I’ve fallen for an unavailable man or two over the years and been envious of the person they were with, but I’ve never gone Coo Coo for Cocoa Puffs over it. I don’t burst a blood vessel if I catch the guy I’m with checking out another man…he might catch me at some point and then what? Those damn glass houses!
Before we continue I do feel I should also state that the first part of the following story all took place back in my early twenties. I’m much nicer than I used to be. Back in those days, the old me might have done something evil such as drink too much vodka, hop up onto the roof of someone’s car while pointing at random guys and declaring, “I’d fuck you and you…” True – that in itself was really only embarrassing to me, but I unfortunately decided to also point at other guys while declaring, “I would soooo NOT fuck you or you…” Yeah…I was a real sweet heart in those days.
My first real experience with the green eyed monster didn’t actually involve me personally, so to speak. I know already that I’m going to get some unkind comments over this, but what the hell. All I have to say is, unless YOUR roommate comes home from a weekend trip to a hair show in Nashville with a complete stranger in tow, declaring they’ve fallen in love while moving this perfect stranger into your home…you aren’t allowed to bitch at me. Now that I’ve hopefully built up a little sympathy for myself…stranger guy also happened to have Tourette’s.
I was a little surprised by how much I instantly disliked this man. To be fair, my BFF’s twitchy boy toy was not very friendly either. I’m sure he’d been made fun all his life and perhaps that made him a little anger ball, because he was certainly never going to win Miss Congeniality. I know it’s not PC and I realize he couldn’t help himself, but it’s very frustrating when you’re lounging on the couch trying to enjoy your favorite TV show while some dude you never intended on living with is sitting on the floor bumping the back of his head into the sofa and muttering, shit…shit…shit…periodically. Pretty soon, you too might feel your own sanity slip as your normally Walt Disney-like personality slowly begins to get all Tim Burtony, while you imagine yourself picking up the table lamp sitting next to you and smashing him over the head with it. Granted…I now know it was actually my roomie who deserved to be bludgeoned, but hindsight and all…you know.
Their relationship was tumultuous at best, and wound up only lasting a few months. I was witness to things in that short amount of time, well…ever seen War of the Roses? I’d never seen behavior like that, coming from my don’t-ask-don’t-tell family background. The accusations of indiscretions, declarations of love, and instantaneous assumptions of guilt were enough to make me swear, *channeling Scarlett O’Hara clutching a handful of dirt* “As God as my witness, I shall never date crazy as long as I live.”
Something I also hadn’t learned at the tender and impressionable young age of twenty one…never say never. It wasn’t long after their break-up that my BFF and I became Frenemies – apparently my lack of support during their relationship was unforgivable.
I used to think jealous people were just drama junkies, until I found myself dating one. In my defense, he wasn’t like the jealous people I’d known in the past. He totally flew under the ‘crazy’ radar. In his defense, he told me he was prone to jealousy when we started dating. He was quiet and sweet…downright loving. Not only was he interested in me, but he was very curious about my writing as well. I thought I’d won the man-lotto, cause on top of his seemingly mature and manly demeanor, the sex was also fantastic. I scoffed at his declarations of being a jealous man. He was way to level-headed for such non-sense…plus I knew I’d never give him reason to be.
For several months I was walking around in a haze…seconds away from a sugary-sweet diabetic love-coma. Then, it stopped. He vanished! I left a few messages and then stopped myself. After all, (insert sassy head bobbing here) I was certainly not going to beg. He finally did call, though. When we met up to discuss, to his credit, he was completely honest. I’d given him a rough draft of a book I’d been writing, the soon to be released, Dreaming of You. He informed me that he’d stopped calling because the imaginary ‘dream man’ character in my fictional novel was nothing like him. I kid you not, folks…not even I could make this shit up. The man was jealous of my imagination!
While I did appreciate his honesty…I was also carefully sliding the silverware sitting on the table we were occupying away from him. In the end, I of course had to jump off the express train to Crackertown, but I still to this day have never understood jealousy. If there’s anyone out there who can suss this one out for me, I’m all ears.