We all get jealous from time to time — what wakes the green-eyed monster for you?
OK, so let’s get one thing straight, I’m not a jealous person.
When one has such low self esteem that they don’t think they deserve to live at all, I don’t think I ever had the nerve or chutzpah to take something off someone, or demand that they not have it.
But I do occasionally suffer from bouts of the next best thing.
It’s what I’ve dubbed, courtesy of that ’80’s legend Jilted John, ‘Yeah, Yeah, It’s Not Fair’ syndrome.
I’m also occasionally prone to envy, but this (as my friend Helen has already outlined most ably in her fabulous Scribblefest), is a tad more forgivable as all you really want is the tiniest slither of the pie, and not to snatch the entire thing out of the hands of the current recipient, hurl the empty dish at their head afterwards then lean over and burp applesauce in their face.
Well not usually anyway… 😉
I should know what jealousy looks like; I had and do have a couple of green eyed monsters in my life at present.
One cannot bear for me to have anything she does not, even if she can’t feasibly have it in the first place, one example being a hot date when she’s ‘happily’ married, a vintage bargain bag when she has a wardrobe full of new Pradas or a party invite that she cannot attend anyway. But she’s a psychopath, so it’s not that surprising really (https://sistasertraline.wordpress.com/2013/12/15/run-run-run-away/).
When I was younger and more attractive, another now ex friend once hinted very heavily that life would be much easier for her if I were to put on about 3 stone in weight, as she was sick of her horrible, deadbeat boyfriends hitting on me, something I would always get it in the neck for, and not the HDB’S. BUT if I was safely ensconced in a relationship and she was on the look out, she would have no qualms in asking me to be her wing woman in order to attract more men to our table for her.
That said, whilst YYINF syndrome is not quite as bad as jealousy, it is, I have to admit, mean spirited, whiney, pathetic and not all that different at the end of the day.
So regarding my particular (pale) green eyed character flaw, when does this terrible affliction kick in?
When I see the happy, the lucky, the fortuitous, the beautiful, the loved from the moment they were born, getting on splendidly in every aspect of life you’d care to mention.
‘And who might they be Sista?’ you may ask innocently.
And I say to you, ‘Oh they, and maybe even YOU, know who you are dear! Don’t think I haven’t noticed, y’hear?!’
Because I SEE YOU pretty much every day; all glowing, confident and appreciated courtesy of your perfect parents, coasting gracefully through life, getting everything you want, meeting your soul mate at exactly the right time, having the wedding of your dreams, popping out 2.5 model kiddies without even so much as gas and air, climbing the corporate ladder with grace and ease and looking stunning in the bargain, blah, blah, fucking blah.
You always get a seat on the notoriously crowded 7.45 am train from Guildford to Victoria, and even in a heatwave, sans air con, you arrive on platform pristine and box fresh whilst the rest of us are sweating, dishevelled, cursing wrecks.
You can go to the January sales and never get jostled or flustered, and always nab the best bargains as you walk, no glide, through the yielding, parting crowds like a cross between Moses and the frigging Timotei girl swishing through a field of daisies on a soft, summers day.
If you’re male, you’re everyone’s best mate, super masculine, but stylish, and a decent sort too, generous (shit, you can afford it!) excelling at all sports, and you’ve been told more than once that you look a bit like a cross between Davids Beckham and Gandy.
Your folks adore you because you were the perfect child, and you adore them back because they did everything for you and are just the best parents ever!
You always get a green light, never a red. And I’m not just talking about driving.
You always get upgraded to first class on the plane, even if you’re in your oldest jeans and tattiest t-shirt.
You’re the must have dinner party guest in your circle because not only do you shine, but you have the ability to charm, make everyone feel comfortable, are attentive even with the most boring neighbour and you are guaranteed to entertain everyone into the night with your hilarious anecdotes and cutting edge opinions and knowledge about, oh, just about everything.
Despite walking everywhere you have never ever scratched the leather off your stiletto healed Jimmy C’s.
And of course, it goes without saying that you’re also anything from attractive to extremely good looking. How could it not be so?
Doors open for you. Packed restaurants miraculously find a top table for you. Flowers grow, soufflés rise, the stubborn bend, and legs do part.
And the hardest thing of all for someone like me who had a hideous childhood, was never loved, has mental health issues, struggles to keep friends (whine, whinge, whine…), and never, ever had or will ever have what you have?
You’re usually a bloody nice person and I would no doubt like and admire you if I knew you, when I so long to hate you.
Because IT’S NOT FAIR!
Who decides who has a great life and who has a shitty one?
I WANT ANSWERS!!!
All joking (kinda) and ranting aside, i know that I’m luckier than most and things could be a whole lot worse, but sometimes I look at these shiny happy types and wonder how things might have turned out for me, had I been lucky enough to have the chances they’ve had.
I guess we’ll never know.
In the meantime, I try and fight my irritation and caustic, destructive, corrosive jealousy, sorry, envy, stop bloody MOANING and make a mental note of which queues to rise early for when my next life is due.
And if Holly frigging Willough-booby gets in my way in the Looks Department, there’ll be HELL to pay.
Back off Blondie, haven’t you had ENOUGH blessings? You’re INSATIABLE!!
Oh Gawd, I feel yet another rant coming on….Here we go, two, three, four…..
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