There is a first time for literally everything. I learned this little fact very recently. Dating for the first time is... frustrating to say the least. I have never been a materialistic person. Anyone that knows me, knows that there are few things in life that are in material form that I enjoy. Envy has never really been something I adhered to. Nor jealousy. My philosophy has always been, "Why be jealousy of you? We both probably suck a pretty even amount."
But, in honor of me discovering new things about myself, I've come to realize that I am an incredibly jealous person. This is a fact. Not an opinion.
It is also a contradiction.
Based on my personality, I will share anything and everything with a person who really needs it. Hell, sometimes I give to people who don't. I am typically seen as the mom friend, the advice friend, the I've had a bad day and need a hug friend... Jealousy does not fit in any of those descriptions.
In the world of dating and relationships; it's a freaking war zone! Growing up and watching the many women in my family date and not succeed has taught me a lot. It's also made me realize that no man is worth fighting over or losing your sanity or peace of mine over.
No matter how much you like a man, or love a man, fighting other women over him... just ain't it. If you have to compete for something that's already been established as yours, well, sorry to burst your bubble, but it's not really yours.
A lot of women spend their time fighting tooth and nail to keep a man. But always remember this golden rule: you can not keep a man that does not want to be kept.
I experienced jealousy with a rage that paralleled explosive. It made me take a step back. I did not want to be the kind of woman to stifle and smoother her man, especially so early on, because I couldn't control the need to want him for myself.
He had a past. I knew that and it had never bothered me up until this particular point. It was one girl. One girl that he had talked to but was now friends with. He had plenty of female friends, some he had slept with. None of them ever fazed me. I talked to many of them, knew a few of them personally. But this girl... It was like one of those low budget BET college movies where the main couple couldn't maintain because the female love interest was always on some weird ass rage about other women wanting her man.
In that moment... I was that character. Every time I saw her, my blood boiled. Anxiety hit the pit of my stomach. There were plenty of times when we just had mini staring contests. The jealousy I felt was so consuming, so hypnotic that my confidence dwindled. Self-doubt knew my name. One night, as I lay awake in my dorm room, I couldn't take it anymore. I began to frantically text him, asking him to just hear me out.
As I spilled my proverbial guts, a weight lifted off my shoulders. He listened and he didn't judge. He told me he understood. He also told me not to worry. He had feelings for me and they were genuine.
In that very moment I reminded myself that he was/is a person and not an object that I own. That was a real piece of reality. A heavy dose of calm the fuck down.
