Envy Becomes Her

What exactly is it about women that we feel that we can never truly be happy for other women? Oh don't look at me like that. You know exactly of what I speak. It is like we're born with some naturally arched eyebrow and when we reach a certain age, we spritz ourselves with eau de jalousie, then hit the town in our stilettos and black dress--prowling for men and ready to claw out the eyes of some other bitch who steals our spotlight. Too much? Hrm. Where did I place those Lee Press-ons?

A friend, Cyndi, brought this to my attention. She got a call from an old friend of hers and this friend is getting married. An over joyous event, for certain. But she couldn't help but feel that little green monster creep up inside of her and take control. "When I got off the phone with her, I immediately started doing sit-ups" she told me over coffee at Kahawa House last Thursday. Sure, Cyndi is 35 and single--and up until then she was loving every minute of it. So what changed? One more single man off the market? Or one more single girl converting to the coveted "couplehood."

I remember watching a few Sex In The City episodes about this topic of the Singletons v. the Marrieds and with Carrie and the girls--the Singletons won out in the end. The Marrieds were envious of their former lives and of the hot and raunchy sex they assumed the Singletons were having. Apparently they forgot all about the lonely nights waiting for your buzzer to ring to signal that the Chinese delivery boy is ready with your Asian delicacies--and that you ate it all in one sitting, watching reruns of Boston Legal, wondering why you can't find your own personal Alan Shore--and then you remember that Alan is a dick and you know plenty of those. Or maybe that is just me.

The fact is that women are very catty. We want others to be jealous of us, so we have to play into the game. It's somewhat like the lottery--a very insecure lottery. And you don't even need breasts and a vagina to play--some of the men I know are some of the most manipulative and envious people out there. I'm not saying that it is wrong--and I'm not saying it is right for that matter. It is human. We want the best things for ourselves and fuck everyone else. It's the American Dream.

"So what should I do," Cyndi asks me. I sit up a bit stronger in my chair--"You go to the wedding. You let her have her day--and someday, it will be yours. And if this gives you more motivation to change the things about you that you've been wanting to deal with, then fine. But at the end of it all, she will still be married. That won't change reality." It's shiesty advice--for sure. Eau de Jalousie is an airy fragrance but it should never be traded in for it's stronger smelling stench of Hatred, Cockblocker or Regret.