|
|
 |
What happens when we get jealous? Nothing endearing, nothing good. I've read that jealousy in and of itself is not technically considered a separate emotion but an amalgam of insecurity and fear. These make us act in defiance of all reason, sabotaging ourselves in the process. In spite of what many women I know seem to believe, grownups cannot curtail each other's movements about town. And even if you chain your guy to the radiator he is less likely to repent than to start dialing up women on his iPhone. I can't say I'd blame him.
I can see how anyone would stray. In the case of my late husband, a successful cartoonist, I envisioned him being somewhere away from home and meeting an attractive woman who laughed uproariously at whatever he said, specifically the stories I'd heard a zillion times, the ones that made me repair to the kitchen during our dinner parties. Considering the inescapable realities of human nature, why do we continue to feign shock when someone succumbs? Give John Edwards a break already.
And yet, we don't want to be played for fools; it hurts. Why do I do emotional contortions to convince myself what I'm feeling is something more commendable than jealousy? Who isn't jealous? Simone de Beauvoir, feminist heroine of my high school years, was insanely jealous, and the object of her obsession was a man who on a good day resembled a bullfrog. When I Googled "sexual jealousy," I found a parade of agony columnists asserting that the way around jealousy is to make oneself irresistible. He's venturing beyond the property line for sex? Indulge him until he can barely walk, much less cheat. But at least one website went deeper, offering some highly practical advice:
Visualize your partner having a sensual experience with their other lover as if you were watching porn. . . Focus on how beautiful it is to see your partner having pleasure. . . If you can get aroused by this all the better. Feel HAPPY and EXCITED that your partner has extra pleasure. . . Even if at first you have to fake it a little. . . keep at it. . . Practice helps. . . Take a moment to visualize sweet honey love juice dripping from your heart to your yoni. . . love yourself. . . be whole without anyone.
Wow, I feel better already, or at least my yoni does. But that last bit resonates. Be whole without anyone. Sexual jealousy may be normal and at times unavoidable, but it undermines our serenity, sense of humor, and the simple pleasures that sustain us. Trust, but verify? We might all fare better with Don't Ask, Don't Tell.
n°
| ABOUT THE AUTHOR: |
 |
Susan Seligson's reporting and essays have appeared in The New York Times Magazine, Salon.com, The Atlantic Monthly, Redbook, Outside, Allure, and many other publications. Her weekly advice column, “Ask Susie,” appears in the Provincetown Banner. Seligson’s travelogue, Going with the Grain: A Wandering Bread-lover Takes a Bite Out of Life, was published in the fall of 2002 by Simon & Schuster. A memoir, Stacked: A 32DDD Reports from the Front, released in 2007 by Bloomsbury USA, was named one of the 100 best books of the year by Publishers Weekly. |
| RELATED ARTICLES |
|
 |
Pulling It Off by Steph Auteri
I dared myself to pose nude, but I had more to shed than clothes. |
|
 |
Shot in the Dark by Diane Reynolds
I wanted to be a photographer. He wanted to be seen. |
|
|
 |
Shazam! by Sarah Clyne Sundberg
Me and the fetish wrestlers next door. |
|
|
©2009 Susan Seligson and Nerve.com
|
|
|
|
