Jealousy

Something about “you can’t always get what you want.”

Ten seats away, a woman I’d once made out with was surrounded by men — and jealousy surged through me with an intensity wildly disproportionate to reality. Turns out, she wasn’t even the right woman.

I got my cock sucked, and a woman I’d never met was unhappy about it.

The ethics of openness, secrecy, and desire — and the icky feeling when someone else gets what you can’t have, precisely because they’re willing to be dishonest about it.

The woman who inspired this blog is having an affair again — just not with me, and not the honest kind.

Adam Phillips, on the futility of sexual jealousy.

The things I want from the women in my life are remarkably consistent, and that consistency can feel, to each of them, like a diminishment.

I know the sting of jealousy well, but I’m shockingly blind to the jealousy I inspire in others.

I don’t just want you. I want you to want everything I want, for me — and to keep up as I ask for more.

Jealousy, for me, boils down to the fear that I don’t exist — and that a woman holds the power to confirm it.