February 4, 2011
I'm a really fortunate person in a whole lot ways. Especially in the fact that I'm not married to a jealous man. I don't know what it is about jealous guys, but I have zero tolerance for that type of neediness.
Jealous guys and guys who drive automatic sedans--in both cases I'm like, "Dude, grow some nuts. Today."
But of course, we're human. He's a little bit jealous of my sewing talent, and I'm just the teensiest bit envious of the relationship he has with his German Shorthaired Pointer (that's a dog breed, not some crazy phallic nickname), but other than that, we're good.
Now I should admit, we're not big on the whole 'friends of the opposite sex' thing. I have a few and he has a few, but we have a pretty firm policy that we don't find ourselves alone with a person of the opposite sex unless they're a relative or it's a professional situation.
The last thing I need is some pretty lady stealing Jared, his dog, and his student loan debt away while I'm not looking.
So caution? Of course.
But jealousy? Not a whole lot...well, maybe a splash or two in this billion year old post.
This is why I was so surprised over what happened this morning.
I was perched in the middle of the kitchen, innocently sweeping the floor, singing 'Someday My Prince Will Come.'
He was like, "What are you singing?"
And I said, "Someday My Prince Will Come."
"That's what I thought. Why would you sing that?"
So I said, "You really want to know why I would sing that???? Really, Jared? Because I want to know why you know that song! Did I marry a softee or something?!?!?"
From that point on, it just got really, really messy.
This is exactly why I don't like jealous men. Drama, drama, drama.