Sometimes we need something to get us through a tedious day. Lately I’ve been feeling the need for some of the husband’s loud, alternative-type music. I’ve been trying to visualise where I last saw his CD pouch, and today I started going through some of our bags.
Then I chanced upon a photo album, more than a decade old and in it, amongst the many pictures of the husband and his friends, was one distinct picture of an ex-girlfriend.
I smiled to myself, closed the album and tucked it back into the bag.
But, I couldn’t resist texting the husband and telling him about my discovery. I told him not to worry about it and it’s up to him what he does with it. I think I held myself together pretty good.
Until I saw his face when he got home today and I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy (guess this shows I’m still crazy about this man!). So I chose to walk away and pretended to be busy.
WOAH! Look how far I’ve come! The old me would have gotten all obsessive, crazy and jealous, trying to “figure out” why does he still have a picture of his former flame. I’d probably have sent him a highly charged text message with all the elements of emotional blackmail.
How do I know how I would react? Because I’ve done that before.
The husband, then rather new boyfriend, was caught completely off-guard and in fact, did not know what I was going crazy about. The details are all hazy now but I sent him a series of text messages about how I was feeling, asking him all these questions about whether he really wanted to be with me, and if he really loved me, without telling him what invoked the emotions. He, who was at work, called me up immediately. Of course, I rejected his calls. He texted me. Then he called again, wanting to get home to see me. I told him, no that’s okay. Stay at work because I wanted to be alone anyway. I don’t even remember how we resolved it that day.
But I do remember kicking up another fuss about ex-girlfriends and keeping mementos of any kind – even if he seems completely unaware of them. Poor darling ended up deleting all the emails from before we met.
That, my friends, was how crazy possessive I was. Did I constantly feel insecure? No. Did he give me any reason to be insecure? No.
He was the perfect boyfriend who spent every waking hour possible with me. In my sista’s words: “Oh please… Your Eli is too busy with wanting to please you. Where got time and energy to look at another woman.”
He gives me access to his phone, social networks, bank accounts and emails. He never looked at another woman. In fact, I’m always nudging him to “look at that girl’s legs!” He doesn’t even pass any comments about pretty girls, whereas I find myself saying “That guy is good looking!” But when I dig out things from the past – nevermind that he doesn’t even remember their existence – I drive myself crazy with jealousy.
Did marriage give me some sort of confidence and security? Perhaps it did. Or perhaps I’ve just grown up a little bit more. Less of a girl and more of a confident woman. A woman who knows what she wants and what she deserves.
The husband tore up the photo in the end. But did it make me feel any less jealous? No, it didn’t. But this too, will pass because at the end of the day, I’m the one he comes home to. And at the end of life, it’s Jesus he has to report to.
In the meantime, my mantra will be: “I don’t care where you’ve been, what you’ve done, as long as you love me!” Yes, inspired by the Backstreet Boys! Oh sap.