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outlier_lynn

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Thursday, August 22nd, 2002 09:18 am
I have never felt jealousy. Well, that's not true. I have felt other peoples' jealousy, but I have never been jealous.

I've never had the "mine" feeling that so many of friends, poets, romance authors, and, even, Shakespeare have described as being so exciting. I don't remember a time when I thought that I owned someone in any sense, but especially in the sense of love and partnership. I have always whinced at possessive phrasing like "my love." I use that phrasing because it is common and has the right sound for many or even most. But I don't like it much.


It has been a really great trade. I am missing an excitment that I have never esperienced directly or indirectly and I'm not missing the angst, heartbreak and pain of jealousy that I have indirectly experienced.

For those of you (and there must be a few of you reading this) who think that if I am never jealous concerning someone, then I must not really love them, phffffffft. Check your cultrual biases at the door.

I've never been jealous. But I have sometimes suffered from serious bouts of envy. Less and less often, but they happen.

They were really serious years ago when I was just sure that I didn't deserve the happiness/sex/love/whatever that other people seemed to have in their lives. Those envy attacks were unfocused and lasted for days, weeks or sometimes months. Those are completely gone. Whew.

Now days I have little focused envy moments. They last a short time. They take the form of "I want some, too" or, if the envy is stronger, "Share, damn it!"

I have begun to think that the excitement that people mention when they talk about little bits of jealousy is the same excitment I feel when I have little bouts of envy. There is a flavor to unrequited love that I enjoy. A feeling of mooning for soemone that I didn't do when I was young. Back then it got turned into another anvil I could drop on my unworthy head.