A meditation on jealousy

Just over a year ago, Marina‘s and my relationship wound down. I’m grateful for Marina: in addition to being a ton of fun, and, I hope, a lifelong connection of some sort (though of precisely what sort remains to be seen), Marina very generously allowed me to explore my psychotic relationship to jealousy.

As our relationship wound down, as her relationship with W ramped up, I could see, clearly, the threat W, and her relationship to him, posed to me, to us. More clearly, sooner, than could Marina. Initially, I craved nothing more than information: tell me whom you are seeing, when, and then, if you would, report back comprehensively. I mean, truth be told, what I really craved was to possess Marina singularly. But I didn’t feel entitled to ask that. I never do. I’m not prepared to offer anyone a monogamous version of me, so I don’t imagine it reasonable to demand monogamy of anyone. Let alone someone who’s thousands of miles away, whose body I can’t touch.

With Marina, I got to explore just what it is I feared, and to do so in a contained, relatively safe space. Even as it felt overwhelmingly unsafe to me, in reality, it was safe.

And what did I fear?

It turns out, I had two primary fears:

  1. More than anything else, I feared (correctly) loss. I feared that W presented a mortal threat to my access to Marina, that as her relationship with him deepened, I surely would lose the relationship with her that I had come to prize. This is a regular feature of my relationships: I’ve lost any number of women to new, essentially monogamous, relationships. I lost V that way (and then got her back, and then lost her again, and then got her back, and then lost her again). I lost Isabel that way. Sort of. I lost P. I lost L. Sort of. And another L, about whom I wrote lots, but then removed everything up here, at her request. I lost the Rockette that way. And Luna. And others. So I’m not wrong to fear loss. It seems that most of the women I date (though not all) use me as a sort of entertainment between monogamous relationships. This isn’t how I use them. I use my relationships to feel alive, to explore, to learn, to invigorate. And, I don’t tire easily. As hungry as I am for variety, I also hunger for depth, for connection, for durability. Whether I like it or not, the vast majority of the relationships I forge as “N” expose me to the near-certainty of loss – first, foremost, because almost all relationships end, of course; but second, because I seek something different than most of the women I date – something more long-lasting, more… serious. Ironically.
  2. I also feared comparison. This fear has less to do with rationality, more to do with fantasy. My cock is not the biggest. My ability to satisfy a woman is heavily skewed toward the oral. My cravings have a tendency to be tons of fun to gratify, but also, to have a certain weighty unsustainability to them. I’m not a simple relationship partner. I’m not easy. And so, when Marina was exploring her relationship with W, I feared that she would find him… better… than me. (This fear was multiplied exponentially by the fact that W and she were in the same place, and that I was far, far away.)

In every relationship, these two fears interlace with one another. I fear that comparison will lead to loss.

In recent days, I’ve been having a ton of fun with Charlotte. And, at the same time, I see the jealousy/loss/comparison bogeyman looming. She went on a date the other night. Generously, she told me about the date, about her dating habits generally. I’m hyper-sensitive, though. I’m relying heavily on Charlotte at the moment, and, as with Marina (and Sofia, and P, and others before), she is – at least for the time being – beyond my grasp. We had one night together, and after that, she unexpectedly moved away. She plans to return, and even has a definite plan for a specific (if finite) return. But for the time being, Charlotte is fuck-able by others, but not by me.

And here, I’m sensitive. She told me that “last month was a ho month” for her. I was, it seems, part of that. I want to be part of a non-ho month for her. I want to be a regular feature of her sexual exploration and excitement. And perhaps I can be, perhaps I will be.

In the meantime, though, she’s matching with guys on Hinge, she’s going on dates, and, she estimates, she sleeps with 70% of the guys with whom she goes on dates (though she rarely has second dates). Last night, she had a first date, didn’t have sex, but hopes to have a second date with the guy.

And here I am, scared: will he fuck her better than I did? (That wouldn’t be hard; for all my talents, fucking isn’t ever one of my best ones, even in the best of circumstances, and on my first date with Charlotte, I wasn’t even a passable fuck-er.) Will he successfully woo her toward a monogamous relationship? Will I lose her to him? And if not to him, to the next guy, or the one after him?

Surely, one day, I will lose Charlotte, and, given my track record, I’m unlike to lose her because I tire of her. More likely, I will lose her because she tires of me, because she tires of my demands, because I’m incompatible with her hunger to identify someone with whom she can connect in a primary way (as with Sofia, V, Isabel, the Rockette), or because she does connect with someone in a primary way, with which connection I am incompatible (as with V, P, Sofia).

In the mean time, though, I’m grateful: Charlotte is feeding me voluminously, and allowing me to imagine all the fun I might have with her when she is more available to me. (Let that day come soon!!!)

And, she’s attending to my jealousy thoughtfully. After her date the other night, when she got home, after debriefing with me about how the date had gone, I asked her to come. And. She. Did.


I love it when this woman comes for me.


One comment

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.