Jealousy

I've never claimed to be a jealous person when it comes to my man.  In fact, I'm pretty laid back when it comes to Tate hanging out with anyone.  Basically, I trust him and I have nothing to worry about except . . .

In my dream last night the jealous side of me came out.  There is a girl, who I'll call Marie, that Tate had been friends with far before I came along.  Now, there was a very big age difference in the two and that alone creeped me out.  But they were always fishing and hunting together and all the things that we do together now.  And, they were more than just friends.  They never actually dated, but there was some heavy flirting, talking and some smooching.  This wouldn't bother me if he had just up and forgotten she ever existed when I came in the picture, but they continued to be friends and that little tinge of jealousy would come up and bite me every time I heard her name or saw her perfect little juvenile face.  Fortunately, he didn't even ask to invite her to the wedding, so I know he is forgetting about her.  I mean, I know he loves me very much and he would never ever ever ever do anything wrong.  But, I am a woman, after all, and we all have this feeling towards someone.

Anyway, in my dream last night I had been waiting and waiting on Tate to come home for dinner (which really did happen last night, but he was with my dad -- nothing to worry about there!).  It was getting really late and I called and called, but he never answered.  Finally, I called his parents' house and his mother answered.

Dear, sweet Lori said, "Honey, Tate left his phone here when he came by this afternoon."  I didn't even know he had gone to Wewoka, so I was a little shocked.  I asked her if she knew where he was now and she responded, "Well, Wendy, he went to Marie's a while ago.  I haven't heard from him since."  And for some reason all I remember that happened next was something about an apple pie.  That sounds good, though. 

Random, sorry.  So after the flash of an apple pie I laid on my bed sobbing hysterically late into the hours of the night.  I didn't expect him to come home at all, so when I heard someone fiddling with the door outside, I grabbed the pistol by the bed and hunkered down in the floor on the opposite side of the bed.  I hurriedly loaded the gun and waited for the perpetrator to approach.  As I heard the footsteps nearing, my heart started beating faster and faster.  I slowly turned and raised slowly so I could peek over the bed with pistol in tow.  I saw the shadow coming closer.  Then I realized it was Tate.  No, I didn't shoot him.

I laid the gun down and started crying.  He explained that he had to go pull Marie out of the ditch and then her family invited him over for dinner and he couldn't say no.  He just stayed there with the family and hung out.  That made me feel better, but I would have rather had him at home with me than with that little wannabe man stealer.