Hey Jealousy

Maybe this post could be included in the "Pregnancy Insanity," posts previously posted. Maybe not, but either way I'm in a writing mood; might type til my fingers smoke. The summer that I casually dated Ricky before my LDS mission, I was simultaneously writing love letters to my missionary love, whom I was convinced I would marry at the time. I was leaving for South America myself come August. Two years later Ricky and I reconnected. I'd grown up a bit and was ready for him. I knew immediately exactly where we were heading once round 2 began. The first time we were really around each other in fact, once other loose ends had been tied up. No question, no doubts. I had to give the poor chap a heads up though, because this Meradith would be different than the one he had fallen in love with 2 years earlier. That Meradith was pretty casual, pretty laid back, pretty nonchalant. That Meradith was hanging out with him for fun. This Meradith was going to be needy and demanding and irrationally sensitive to him. Because this round, my eggs were going into his basket. Every last one. I remember telling him, "Things are gonna be different than they were before. I wasn't really depending on you to fulfill my emotional needs before. And I'm not promising you'll like the changes..."

He swore that he knew it would be better and that he'd like the differences; that he wanted to be the person fulfilling all my needs! But that was before I started texting him all day while he was at work and wondering in my fury why he wasn't responding immediately. I didn't care that he was in a meeting. I didn't care that he was at lunch with some suppliers who were in town. There was simply no excuse to withhold the attention! *I had to remind him several times when we were newlyweds, "This is what it's like being married to a woman! Guess you could have stuck with your roommates!"*

Being engaged and newlyweds... so, so dramatic. Even more so than dating. Every move he made was either confirming his undying love and devotion to me or his obvious lack thereof. Poor, poor Ricky. I was territorial. I'd never been like that so much and have never been like it since. It didn't help that he was Provo's most eligible bachelor for years and everywhere we went we ran into ex-girlfriends. He'd give a friendly wave. "Who was that?" I'd say. "Oh just a girl I dated a while back... ugh I know her name... what is it..." (talking to self) And I'd sit there while he scanned his mental computer searching for the name with a furrowed brow. "You don't know her name?" him: "I know it, I just can't remember it right now." Or it didn't help that every single time we were around his cousin (yes Eric, that's you, I'm so happy that you are happily married now!), he would ask, "What was that girls name you dated when we doubled that one time... blah blah blah.. What was her name again? Oh MAAAAAN. SHE WAS SO HOT!!! What ever happened to you and her?" And I'd sit there with a confused expression on my face, like, "Is this for real? Am I invisible?" I hope I'm not painting the wrong picture, because all bias aside, I don't think there's ever been a man who respects women more than Ricky. I think we can just safely say that he was very efficient with the single time that he had.

One time we had been married like a month and we went up to Salt Lake and ate at the Pie pizzeria. This cutie patootie came bounding up to him through the crowd (standing next to his new bride), pony tail swaying, and grabbing his arm, pulled him towards her so she could whisper a little something in his ear. Don't worry, it gets better. It was simply so loud in there that my supremely receptive husband (receptive of fiery darts shooting out of my eyes), said, "What? I can't hear you" three. times. during this exchange. Every time, she'd giggle and pull him a little closer. "Nope. Nothin. Still didn't quite catch that. Could you repeat yourself again?" I thought I was on candid camera. You've. got. to. be. kidding. me. Finally she's yelling loud enough in his ear, closer than ever (could have nibbled) that I'm able to make out what she says, all the while lightly holding his upper arm. "Maybe you don't remember me, but you gave me a ride on your Harley last summer... it was so much fun... we went up all through the canyon..." So they chit chatted about it, reminisced, made small talk while I'm envisioning them together on the bike like that Aerosmith video, and then, still squeezing his arm ever so gently, she said, "So good to see you again," flashed him her pearly whites, and bounded away like a gazelle. Didn't look once at me. In fact, neither he nor she did. I was making my best effort to flash her my diamond. But no. No acknowledgement of my presence from either. For all she knew, I could have been a creepy eavesdropper lesbian with a crush on her just giving her the eye. I had suddenly very much become the third wheel.

 She walked away and he turned to me, smiling, and casually asked what kind of pizza I felt like. If looks could kill. "Exactly when was it going to come rushing back to you that you are no longer a bachelor and you are not here with the guys?? When was it going to hit you that you're supposed to act differently now in these situations than you used to? That your wife was standing next to you during that entire exchange and that maybe there was some kind of obligation, out of respect, to acknowledge me??? When exactly would it have been appropriate to at least touch me and act like you're here with me and I'm not just some lame dopey girl who is in love with you and follows you around? WHEN SHE STARTED TO KISS YOU TO SHOW HER GRATITUDE FOR THE BIKE RIDE????" His smile quickly faded. Poor poor Ricky, in an attempt to defend himself, said something about not remembering her name so he didn't want to introduce us because that would have been awkward... the not remembering her name part. "Oh... yeah... totally... I see what you mean... better to pretend I don't exist. So glad you didn't go there because then she would have had hurt feelings that a married man who took her on a bike ride whilst single didn't remember her name... good call. That would have probably resulted in her... not... asking ... for... another ride on your motorcycle or something. And that would have been really bad."

The worst part was, we were on a date with another couple. Yes. YES, in shame I admit we were that awkward couple the rest of the night. No arguing occurred in front of said friends, but there was lots of awkward silence and tension. And believe me, when I am silent, it is awkward because you know the world just is not right. Another worst part, we were on our way to a Brian Regan show, who is really funny. But there I sat, all night, shooting firey darts out of my eyes into everyone who surrounded us, including that Brian Regan on stage.

Ricky has always been the least jealous person on earth. He's always been a confident dater, but once he knew he had me for good, it was like he turned into this overly secure, overly mature, perfectly at peace about all in life super human. And there've been times that it's annoyed me to no end. Always saying the "right" things, like "Every girl I ever dated made me appreciate you so much more!! I would never know what I have now without them. You should be grateful I have 2,133 ex-girlfriends, honey!" or "I was searching for YOU the entire time!!" Yada yada yada, you know the drill. This has always been in response to me not caring to look at pictures of him and his exes or when we were first married, when I wanted to move away from his bachelor lair to a place that no one knew either of us. When we were newlyweds and I was dejunking some boxes, he also told me not to throw away ANY picture of any ex-boyfriend, because, "in 30 years you'll really want them." Gag me with your maturity, please!

One time while going through some of these boxes I purposely pulled out a binder of old letters from a previous relationship. And the cover of the binder happened to have a collage of pictures of him and me blissfully in love. I left it in his clear sight folks, in our walk-in closet, and I'm not ashamed of it. Finally, after a solid week's time, you can imagine the triumph in my heart as he requested as politely as he could, "Can you get that freaking binder out of here? I'm sick of seeing pictures of that... guy (we'll say he said) all over my wife!" Me: "Oh my goodness honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't even realize! I just thought you didn't care about that stuff! I just thought you were way above it, way too mature to mind! So sorry!" Then I promptly turned, lunged down onto one knee, and did a double fist pump into the air.

Things have evolved since then. It's funny how things used to really get under your skin and now for some reason they're just not that big of a deal. At least for us. And we've only been married for 3 years, for some reason writing this makes me feel like a grandma reflecting on young love. However, I am here to tell you that I did indeed have a stint of territorial-ness, just the other day. And it surprised me a bit. This is what ties this post into pregnancy insanity. Ricky went to get his body fat tested at BYU and left his wedding ring there. He mentioned it to me that night, but the office had already closed. (There was of course some crap given due to the fact that he gets after me for leaving mine on the kitchen counter while doing dishes. And that was that.) The next day comes and goes, no wedding ring on Ricky that night either. Then the day following that comes and goes, and still no wedding ring. I discovered this when he was walking in the door from lifting weights at the gym.

Immediately I saw in my minds eye a vision of super models in thong-tards surrounding my ringless Ricky while he sat on the bench, caressing his biceps and chest, singing and dancing in unison. I saw him pointing every which way, everywhere he went around the gym, waving and winking at every hotty in the vicinity. I saw the muscle-heads watching him smiling in awe and admiration, shaking their heads wondering how he managed to be such a player. My eyes quickly narrowed and I asked him why he hadn't made it a priority to pick up his ring, feeling fired up. Then without really thinking, I told him, "No really, it's fine, how 'bout I just go to the gym without my ring on and see how you like it." I seemed to have momentarily forgotten what state I'm in, as the image of my large belly flopping up and down as I ran drenched in sweat on the tread mill flashed into my mind. Oooooh Meradith, big scary threat. The guys will be flocking if you don't wear your wedding ring. You look super available, and super hot. Everyone will be lining up, asking to be your baby daddy. And then I was more mad about my empty threat, and he smiled. I then proceeded to tell him, being pretty serious, that if he wasn't going to wear his wedding ring, he needed to stuff something up his shirt to make himself look like he has a gut. Yes folks, that's what I actually told him he needed to do. Quite matter-of-factly. And he was getting himself all defensive and annoyed at me for getting after him. The thing is Ricky, this is a compliment that I even care if you wear your wedding ring to the gym or anywhere else. No one who thinks their husband is an ugly ogre cares at all. Don't you see you should be flattered?! And I'm telling you I think you've still "got it"??" Oh, and by the way, you need to let me know you still think I've "got it" too, and not make me tell you that other people may think I've still "got it". A day or two after that happened we were at a Jazz game and a perfect stranger (a young man) told me I was sexy pregnant while I was waiting for Ricky outside the men's bathroom. "No really, you are!" he said. Just a nice compliment, not in a creepy way. I told Ricky the story no less than 4 times, giggling all the while, as he was trying to watch the rest of the game, "I mean can you believe what he said to me?! SO funny, huh?!"

I haven't felt a flash of those feelings for quite some time before this incident. I haven't cared at all running into girls he dated back when, I've haven't thought or felt much about it, being totally honest. (But when you visit teach them, when you are in a prenatal classes with them, when you are in university classes with them, etc. it wears off pretty quick. I got over it pretty fast. Now when we run into them, I just like to ask them if they thought he was a good kisser. Makes it really comfortable.) But then feeling it all the sudden the other day totally invigorated me. Like I just wanted to turn to him and say amidst our bickering, "You are so hot right now. Kiss me, you fool." Like I'm missing the spice and the drama of dating or something, when in reality listening to our single friends tell stories of dating makes me want to heave and I feel so so grateful I'm married. It's interesting. I guess both things are true. I am so glad I don't have to deal with it anymore. But I do miss the drama sometimes, and therefore must stir the pot accordingly.

Maybe I'll start yelling at him in public the next time we're out... something like, "You already promised you'd take care of this baby like it was your own!!" pointing to my swollenness. Maybe I'll drop some swear words to make it more interesting, and add a southern accent. Yeah, I think I will... he'd would be really smooth handling it. Bless his heart. I love that man.