Is jealousy a sign of love?
Is jealousy a sign of love?
If not, do you believe it is anyway, somewhere deep down?
Back when I was in college, I fell in love for the first time in my life.
I’d never had a real boyfriend before, a proper relationship. And this was it. It was like a fairy tale.
J was athletic, fun, and cute. Even though he didn’t have much money, he never let me pay for my skinny vanilla latte at the Starbucks on the corner. He opened doors for me, bought me flowers, and the sex was passionate and exciting.
We’d both found the one, and we were sure of it. He told me how we would propose, by leaving the ring in the glove compartment of our Aston Martin.
How lucky we were at ages 17 and 18 to have already figured this important part of life out.
Or so we thought.
Of course, there’s a catch. From the very beginning, there were several red flags that at first, I didn’t register as such. For example, that winter, I joined a sorority and he made it clear that I “couldn’t” go to any of the mixers between my sorority and the fraternities who would host us.
“Guys are gong to hit on you,” he said matter-of-factly as if this was all the explanation that was needed.
And on several occasions, after downing an entire cup of vodka at this or that party that we went to together, he and I would walk across campus back towards my dorm together. On the way, he would yell at other random guys walking down the green, “Are you looking at my girl!” and then try to incite a fight with them.
The craziest part about all this is not his abuse, however. It was the fact that I actually liked this.
I found it endearing that in his drunken state, he was constantly thinking about “protecting me” from other men.
I was so valuable, so precious, so wonderful, that it was obvious he couldn’t let me out into the savage world of keg stands and dirty basements with other drooling college men. I would be feasted upon!
He wanted me more than anything and he wanted me for himself.
This was love at its fiercest. And I didn’t care at the time about how absurd this all was because I was fully clouded with honeymoon hormones I’d never before tasted, and that were more powerful than they would ever feel again because I thought they would last forever.
But eventually, as those of you who have known me for a while probably can guess, I got sick of his controlling behavior. I wised up to the fact that it’s possible to have a loving boyfriend who still “let” you go to college parties on your own. So I broke up with him a year and half into our relationship.
And in hindsight, I’m really grateful to have had this experience in college. I realized early on that having a jealous boyfriend actually wasn’t so great after all.
But that wasn’t the end of my belief that jealousy is somehow a sign of love.
Even after I had that experience, this idea still lingered. For example when I started dating someone else regularly within non-monogamy not too long ago, I found myself once daydreaming about him saying, “Sarah I want you and only you. Let’s run off together.” Not because I actually wanted to leave Flo. Not at all.
But because I wanted him to like me more. And somehow that would feel like proof of that.
And I’m not the only one who feels this way.
Someone once wrote into my advice column saying that because they started liking someone else they started doubting their love for their anchor partner. It’s like they couldn’t put the two pieces together, that they could possibly like someone else if they truly loved their partner.
This is one of the core beliefs we all internalize growing up in our world. And it’s pervasive. There’s only one space to be someone’s romantic partner so we must protect our spot in that person’s life.
So what do we do about it we hold this belief that isn’t in line with what we know and value about ourselves and our relationships?
Well first, we have to remind ourselves what love really is.
M. Scott Peck, in his book The Road Less Traveled says “Love is the will to extend one's self for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth.” I love this definition of love the most.
It’s not about keeping something for yourself. It’s about wanting someone else to grow and be happy regardless of your role in their lives.
Jealousy, in other words, is not love.
Flo, for example, is not the jealous type but he’s there for me, he’s committed to me, he shows affection and care. He’s invested in my spiritual growth.
I don’t need for him to also be jealous of other guys I date. In fact, I would mostly hate that.
As exciting as it might feel to be swept off your feet, thrown on some knight’s horse and trapped in a castle, it’s not as fun in the reality as it is in the fantasy.
My advice: Catch yourself when you realize this belief is the precedent for taking any actions. Remind yourself what you really value in your relationships and what love truly means, and eventually slowly you will chisel at the idea that jealousy is any sign of love.
WHAT ELSE?
The last advice column in case you missed it, I explore the idea of having sex with friends. Is it worth the possible risk of making things awkward? hmm.
For all you non-europeans, a very realistic IG reel about what it’s like to live in Europe.
Classic morning scene:
