I never considered myself the jealous sort. Even during my first marriage when I was younger, insecure and afraid to be on my own. Possessive, now that’s an entirely different story.
Jealous vs. possessive. One has obvious negative vibes while the other seems less black and white (to me anyway). However, when I took a closer look I found them both to be full of the ick. And here I thought I was possessive in a good way.
The thesaurus listed covetous, resentful, and invidious as synonyms for jealous. Invidious! That sounds bad. Jealous is actually a synonym for possessive, in addition to domineering, controlling and selfish! Ohhhkay then. Maybe I don’t want to admit to being possessive either.
There must be some term that is not completely heinous but clearly describes that I. don’t. share. well.
This one time a few years back Hubs and I entered a restaurant we visited only occasionally. That’s the only way I can explain the waitress’ (or was she a hostess?) behavior. She did not know me. It was really late at night, probably after a movie and if I remember correctly it was also storming outside so we were pretty bundled up. Not that that has anything to do with this story. To continue, we were greeted warmly by this waitress (or hostess; I tend to lean toward HO stess, but I digress … again). She beamed at Hubs and placed her hand on his arm! Then she might have turned and smiled at me, I don’t recall because I was eyeballing her hand on my man’s arm. Not that Hubs was paying attention beyond being polite. It was just the little green-eyed imp in my head preparing to mark her territory. (No! Not like that! Eww! What is wrong with you people?!)
Sorry, digressing again.
So rather than slapping her silly or shanking the bitch as the imp demanded, I slipped my arm through Hubs’, making sure she saw my proprietary posture as I sidled up close. I was willing to risk the rebound impact of boosting Hubs’ ego to an unbearable level. He’s worth it.
I wouldn’t have thought about that night except the battery in my netbook died and I had to listen to my MP3 player on the way to work recently. When Gretchen Wilson sang The Earrings Song I was right back there in that moment. Have you heard The Earrings Song? No? I’m not tech-savvy enough to actually embed the song, but here’s a link where you can listen to it if you’re interested. The Earrings Song.
I’ll save you some time though. If you have any familiarity with Gretchen you know she calls it like she sees it, no holds barred (I think that’s a wrasslin’ reference). The singer’s point of view is that of a married woman out on the town with her husband. She doesn’t like the look of the girl “slinkin’” by. So she tells her. And then there’s the chorus:
Don’t make me take my earrings out
‘Cause I’ll show you what a cat fight’s all about
I’ll throw you down and mop the floor, a man like mine’s worth fightin’ for
Don’t make me take my earrings out
You can see why I was giggling like a fool on the train right? Right? I’d never heard it put quite that way, but haven’t we ALL wanted to take our earrings out at one time or other? And not just to fight for our man. What about defending our children? Hell yeah!
But that’s a tale for another time.
Hmm, maybe there’s a reason all the synonyms for jealous and possessive are so, um…nasty. And nasty is a synonym for wicked. So jealous and possessive are wicked cool!! I can live with that.