It’s a weird feeling.
I feel like in this particular situation I am supposed to be. That’s what everyone around me is suggesting I should feel.
Like somehow that person with him right now is ‘encroaching on my territory’ and therefore I have to get defensive like some kind of lioness.
Which seems like it might take a lot of energy. Which then in turn feels like I should feel bad for not wanting to expend that energy on something as trivial as jealousy.
Don’t get me wrong, I have felt pangs of it before. Back in the early days where I questioned what the hell he was doing choosing me when clearly there was a long line of girls gagging to get a chance with him. To have their one night of passion to add him to their list of conquests. I got the appeal.
I get the appeal.
I still get it.
I guess just after all this time it kind of wears off on you. Not in a bad way or anything. Just in a way.
It’s probably cockiness at this point.
I’ve heard people joke that I took him in his prime and now it’s just rude of me to get rid of him and throw back out into the wild. They are also the same people who tell me that I should be jealous whenever someone twirls their hair around their fingers and giggles at everything he says like he’s telling them something that they might be quizzed on later.
They send a lot of mixed messages.
Not that I listen to any of them anymore.
They would have me feeling jealous all the time if they got their way.
Which, like I said, feels like a pointless waste of energy.
It didn’t always. It used to feel like wasting on that energy on something as petty and unnecessary as jealousy was time well spent.
But like I said, I’ve got cocky at this point.
I can spend that energy on just enjoying myself and living my damn life. I’m out with our friends, enjoying my time with them. I can leave them to needlessly worry about things that don’t need to be worried about.
The ones that really know us take the same approach as me. They pay it no mind. The attention he gets. It still follows him almost wherever he goes, so it’s total bullshit that I poached him in his prime. He’s still got ‘it’, whatever it is. It’s still there.
And I guess I’m supposed to feel jealousy at this turn of events. He’s trying to get me a drink and so many others are trying to see if they can schmooze one out of him too. They can’t. They won’t.
He’ll get a gin and tonic and a vodka martini and extract himself from the surprisingly large group of people that flutter their eyelashes at him and make his way back over to our group. To me. He’ll hand me my martini as he sits back down in the seat he just vacated and his arm will settle around the back of my chair and I’ll lean into the warmth of his side and that will be it. We’ll just exist comfortably around each other until eventually we’ll silently agree that it’s time to go and we’ll fall into bed together.
It’s almost mundane in its routine.
But it’s better than jealousy.
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