Thou Shall Not Covet (oh Ashley Madison)

“How do we first begin to covet Clarice? …
“We covet what we see every day.” (Silence of the Lambs)

I have very clear and very personal ideals when it comes to relationships.

When I hit a certain level of emotional commitment to someone, sleeping with other people starts to feel…wrong. So I just don’t do it.
There are exceptions to this rule of mine, but they are rare and consensual.

I operate on a case by case basis.

I am a monogamous creature by nature.

I do not believe that everyone is.

I also don’t expect my partner to be.

Stay with me here. I know the cult of jealousy is a strong one, I once drank that kool-aid every morning with breakfast. This may or may not make sense to you by the end, and that is okay. I am not asking to be your girlfriend…I’m just showing you my guts.

I know there will be nay-sayers who say things like “well, you must not really love him then”. To them, I say “nay”. My body, my heart, my love, my life, my choice. Jealousy and love are not the same thing. Love is not control, love is acceptance. This is my opinion, I have no desire to sway anyone else’s, in fact that is the entire point of this post.

I don’t consider casual sexual contact outside of my relationship cheating.

I know emotional monogamy without physical monogamy exists, I have been in it. I quite liked it there.

What I cannot abide is lying.

I have always felt that being lied to is the kissing cousin to “hey, do you know how stupid I think you are? So stupid that you will swallow this bullshit I am about to feed you, don’t choke on it though, I really do love you.” (no, you don’t)

I am not now, nor have I ever been side-bitch material. It just ain’t my thing. I am the first wife, the goodwife, the primary or I walk. I am worth more, and I know it.

And if someone else’s husband approaches me. I send him home. That’s not my pain to distribute or deal in. Not my circus, not my monkey.

I was not always this way.

I used to see the Ashley Madison commercials and an anger and rage most horrid would well up inside of me to the point where I felt sick.

I have been having an ongoing debate about whether or not jealousy has an anthropological precedent. I said no, it was invented when we humans, started having free time.

Anthropologically speaking, and there is logic here, humans covet other humans, for companionship and genetic material. Way back in the days of yore, the only time a woman was not self-sufficient was when she was towards the end of pregnancy or with the subsequent newborn. Makes sense to lock the other half of the DNA down. It’s survival.

Biologically, men have taken this to a weird level wherein, if they feel like the mother of their children is not being faithful, their bodies create soldier sperm to kill off any other swimmers that might get in their way. They are hard wired to propagate their own genetic material. All animals are. It’s just science.

So, I was wrong. I am wrong often. Like when those commercials used to make me throw up in my mouth a bit. The ‘they’ that decides these things would air those commercials with alarming frequency during episodes of Maury and Jerry Springer. At one point in my life, I was on a constant diet of those shows. And just like everything else. What you absorb, you become. I was wrong to be in that house, I was wrong to be watching those shows. To feed on the pain of others (real or imaginary) just to make myself feel better about myself and my situation. That is not how it’s done. 
THAT my friends is a self-fulfilling prophecy wrapped in a conundrum on a downward spiral.

I was technically married, I got technically cheated on.

I had every right to be jealous…or did I?

He was hard-wired towards polygamy. I didn’t get it. Granted there was some false advertising on his part, but I am a smart girl. I knew better. And yet, I clung to the idea of him I had created in my head instead of learning who he really was and making decisions based in reality. I fought for the fantasy version of him so hard and vehemently, I pushed him (the real him) into the arms of another woman, who does indeed accept him for exactly who he is.

I go back and forth between ‘yes, we indeed are all unique snowflakes’, to ‘no we are not’ like a pendulum swinging depending on the circumstances. In this instance, when I consider a new partner, yes, yes we are all unique. This person is deserving of being explored thoroughly and without prejudice. I have criteria, I want to be intellectually challenged, I prefer my men fuck like monsters, I want to touch and be touched without thinking/feeling permission must be granted, I want to be accepted. So, I have an obligation to BE those things and give them and myself, freely.

And this shall be the whole of the law, do what thou will.

Just love each other as is.