Monday, November 24, 2008

What is the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach?

Oh, yeah, it's jealousy.

OMG. Seriously. I'm about to write an actual coherent post on LOMB, but I had to get this out first.

Dear John,

I am so grossed out with myself right now. Let's see if I can describe this concretely, like I was trained so well in poetry class to do.

It started in my stomach. Butterflies isn't right, and it's also cliche. And "nervous" isn't concrete. But everyone knows what nervous feels like, right?

Well it started as nerves, in the outer film of my stomach, but seeped deep and rose high to my throat really fast. Except once it was in my throat, it sort of felt feverish. My eyes blurred a little bit, and I got a mini-chill.

I wanted to throw my laptop at the wall. But instead of moving the offending thing from my eyes, I kept clicking through - looking at picture after picture.

I'm talking about Facebook stalking, of course. Of you. On a "semi-formal" sort-of-maybe date. With another girl.

Well, duh, of course it would be another girl. And technically - technically!! - this is a-okay. Perfectly acceptable. Definitely encourageable, actually! I, of course, tried to rationally tell one of my other girlfriends this when she was apalled at her ex's Facebook pictures with other girls. "It's his right! You broke up with him!" I told her in a text message. She did not text me back. I wonder why.

Because she had this god-awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Because even though she (we, totally we, especially me) - because we're hott and girls and selfish humans and OH SO WORTH IT - are allowed to date, flirt, and otherwise online stalk other boys...our exes are SO not.

Because even though I traveled to Philly for a sleepover date, made out sloppily with a hottie mchotterson in public on Halloween, was surprised I didn't get a kiss at the end of my date last night, and am actively flirting with like 20389471 different guys, YOU, of course, are not allowed to do any of these things.

Because even though YOU broke up with ME, you obviously must be pining away over me. On the other side of the country. Like an a-sexual being. Because any woman after me is just a mere girl. Or something.

Well this is just silly. Because I am a 21st Century woman. And I love you (in all definitions of the word). And I am above all these games (sort of). I am mature with high, but realistic expectations about our "future" and our "relationship." We're on the freakin opposite sides of the country, for cryin' out loud, and we're human.

So I won't point out that she's not that cute (well, actually, she's adorable, but I could make up stuff I don't like her if I wanted to). I won't point out that we had a fantastically away-message leaving conversation over the weekend (barf). I won't point out that you broke up with me because you didn't know how you felt about relationships.

(Oops.) Instead, I'll blame it on Facebook, and how I jump all over conclusions and get all upset for absolutely no reason.

And I'll take back my thought process I had last time I was dancing with a cute boy. Because we had mutual friends there, and those mutual friends were taking pictures. Of me. Being dipped. By said cute boy. Tons of fun! And I thought, "I hope they put this on Facebook. And I hope Dear John gets jealous."

I take back that thought process because I really don't hope that. Jealousy is rare for me, and now I know why it's a deadly sin. It feels horrible. I wouldn't wish this uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach on my worst enemy (my poetry teacher would be really annoyed with how many cliches I've stuck in here). And you're not my worst enemy. Far from it.

Much love,
Heart

(I just wish I did know what you are. Not that it should matter. Just like not that I should feel jealous. Should, should, should. Blah.)