Jealousy

It’s the basis for many love songs and poems, the driving force in plenty of books, and a motive behind many a murder.  It is something most of us experience, none of us enjoy, and it is so often a road block of relationships, especially ones with more than two partners. I wonder, however, how inevitable is it?

All the books on open relationships tell us that jealousy is a social construct: since monogamy itself is a social construct, and once upon a time we all lived in polyamory, one has to assume jealousy wasn’t as widespread and socially accepted, or at least not as powerful and detrimental of a feeling. The causes of jealousy are easy to find – the biggest one being probably our fear of loss. We are scared of losing our loved ones to others, whom they will love more. In a material world, we are probably also afraid to lose our share of the resources, that in monogamy only we get to have: their affection, their time, their energy, their desire toward us that is now being satisfied by someone else. There is also that voice of insecurity that whispers in our ear – if our partner wants to be with someone else, what am I lacking? Why am I not enough? Am I not good enough of a lover? Am I replaceable? If he can touch another like he touches me, how am I special to him? How am I unique? But that fear of being one of many seems also tied to the fear of loss – if I can be replaced once I stop being a novelty, what will keep him from staying with me? But that’s the thing, isn’t it – why would I want him to stay with me, if he no longer wants to? Why would I want the affection that’s insincere?

One way out, I suppose, is to be arrogant: after all, we’re never jealous of those we don’t want. If a lover you don’t value finds another, you’ll still feel a loss, but it won’t be that great. So, perhaps, if we stop feeling insecure, we will stop feeling jealous. If you know that no one else will match up to you, and all your lover’s lovers will only remind him of how special you are, or, if you know that you can easily find another lover just as good – then loss is not something you will fear. But there is something fake in that approach. Something that objectifies others and forces one to constantly compare. And how many of us can truly feel so secure without being full of ourselves – and fooling ourselves?

Another route, I suppose, is trust – feeling sure that the person we love will love us back no matter what, that other lovers – and sex in general – does not affect one’s feelings and that love – or whatever keeps your relationship together – is bigger and more important than constant novelty, that it will remain worth coming back to. But trust is a whimsical thing to grow: too hard to keep, to easy to lose. And often enough, it will be betrayed. The Ethical Slut tells us that this is the risk we run, opening ourselves up, but more often than not, the love we give will come back to us, one way or another. But even they warn – you can’t be afraid of being alone. Well, what if I am?

The only reasoning that keeps me sane, that actually works for me (every once in a while) is the hope that if we don’t restrict each other, our partners won’t want to leave. I mean, don’t we rather add friends as we grow older, than lose them? And I know that we only have 24 hours in a day, and a limited amount of energy. I also know that selfish animals that we are, we’d rather spend our time having fun than helping those in need. So how can I trust, having let my partner go and see others, that when I need him, he will be back, and waste his time and energy helping me? I can’t. But the thing is, why would I want a person by my side who wouldn’t do that anyway? Who wouldn’t love me  -- and care about me -- enough in the first place?