Where does insecurity come from?
Any person with average intelligence can probably answer that. I can answer that. I can answer just about anything you ask, and have a relatively educated guess or intellectual sounding response, so long as it pertains to anything – excluding computer mysteries and deep economics or politics. But even with simple economics I can sound pretty damn smart. What matters is how you live. Having all the answers is a hollow claim until you exercise what you know.
Who can blame you, or me, for being insecure? Who can blame you (and when I say you, I mean me. When I say me, I also mean you.) for having jealous tendencies? Why shouldn’t we have them? How many examples of fidelity and hard core monogamy are lauded in our world, and by world I mean world + the American media? Just about zero. That’s all, zero. The SOBs in the media paint news sites, tabloids (and by tabloids I mean Us, People, and even Time magazines), and television with stories of broken vows and marriages, broken families, broken trust. Everything is broken. Someone, or a large group of someone’s, wants us to feel like we can’t hold onto anything. All things will slip away. Your promises. My promises.
Where is this pessimism coming from today? you ask. I don’t know. And if I did know, I wouldn’t go into it. Jealousy and insecurity can eat into me, and I’m the best of them, let me tell you. You know how they say, “It can get the best of them…” That’s me today, and the ‘it’ is jealousy. When it comes and it always does, I think to myself that I’d be better off alone. I consider giving Stoker up, giving his ring back to him (which I’d feel naked without, just as I’d feel completely naked and desolate without the knowledge of him in my life) and going it alone. Don’t crucify me for this and don’t think that I’m not dedicated to him just because of these thoughts. They are sad, alone thoughts that come when I’m scared of something. They are my demons. And he knows about them.
I’d say he knows all my demons and that’s one of the things so beautiful about him. We didn’t meet under pretenses of who the other was. You know what I mean? I mean that what drew me to him was the contradiction of what I believed he was, and who he showed himself to be. I.E. you think a girl is dumb because she’s beautiful and then she says something insightful and astoundingly intelligent and immediately she’s much more interesting, by virtue of shattering the stereotype you applied to her. Stoker shattered my stereotypes in a variety of ways, rendering him desirable, and he’s still desirable to me.
But the more you love something, the more it hurts when it leaves or threatens to leave. Deeper are the cords that bind you, and so deeper are the pains when you lose. This isn’t rocket science (which I could probably look pretty intelligent discussing, believe me) and it doesn’t take Einstein to understand it (who I could hold my own against, I’m utterly convinced). In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if Einstein couldn’t understand it. The vagaries of the heart don’t follow equations and rules.
It all comes down to this: I adore Stoker. I’ve had about 8 boyfriends, give or take a few and depending on what constitutes a boyfriend, and not one has ever fulfilled me in the various ways Stoker does. He gives more than 100% to our relationship. He amazes me. Therefore, he’s more attractive to other women. I mean, I’m not the only one who sees how great he is. I’m not that special. And it’s not his heart that I fear being unfaithful, it’s other women. Call me crazy, but women are conniving. We are, it’s a fact of the gender. I have no study to prove that. But it takes an incredibly honest woman to face up to this and admit it and try to suppress her feminine desire to be tempting. To resist the temptation to be desirable to another woman’s man. I know because I have to do it myself. Women desire being desired. They’re selfish and want all men to fall prey to their coyness. I’m not kidding. And if you’re a man reading this stupid blog, be warned. I have no agenda here except to warn other women that I’m privy to their female wiles.