The Bolt

Although I've heard from doctors that the old wives' tale about "catching a cold" in the winter time simply isn't true, they must have trouble explaining how harsh Canadian winters can bring about the cold and flu season year after year. It so happens that in February 1989, during my first year of university, I was laid up in my dorm room bed feeling rather sick. It was a Saturday evening just after supper time when I heard a knock on the door. I opened the door and was happy to greet my girlfriend, Korin, and welcome her into the room.

I should explain a bit of the relationship, hopefully without waxing nostalgic too much. Korin was beautiful, not only just in my eyes but also in the eyes of my friends. She was intelligent and funny, and carried herself confidently. I was absolutely smitten at the time. We had been dating for about six months, and although I had heard that relationships were fleeting in the first years of university, ours didn't seem to be faltering. I still look back on it now and appreciate it for what it was. Those were some very happy days of my youth.

Korin was a huge fan of the band U2. Their Rattle and Hum album had just been released in October of 1988, and the song I remember most from that album is "Desire". On a different night later that spring, that song was to be blaring on the stereo in my dorm room, and Korin would be dancing around in a tight black skirt (one that I would later wear myself to a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show).

This particular evening, Korin had dropped by to see how I was feeling, and to thoughtfully bring some cough drops. I said that I was still feeling horrible. She could see that quite plainly. So after a few minutes talk, and perhaps because she didn't feel like staying too long lest she catch whatever I was afflicted with, she made to leave. I asked what her plans were that night, and she hesitated before answering that she was going to go to the bar for a night of dancing with a few of her friends.

On hearing this, I said that I wanted to come along, I didn't want to miss any of the fun. She instantly got very upset with me and said, "this is why I didn't want to come over. I seriously debated it. I was hoping that you would act sensibly and just stay in bed to rest, but somehow I knew you would ask to come along. No. Stay here, I'm going."

And with that, she was gone. And about as mad as I had ever seen her before.

Her sudden anger and quick departure really made me evaluate what just happened: why was she so mad? It couldn't just be from tonight, something must have been building up. Then it struck me, and I had all evening to brood over it and realise just what I had been doing wrong. She was angry at me for being jealous.

She was right. I did act jealously. I was envious of the time she spent with her friends. I treated her ex-boyfriends badly. I interjected when I saw her talking with other men. All in all, I really wasn't acting like a good boyfriend at all. But why?

A few hours of laying in bed, with nothing else to do but think on this matter, led me to understand that I was only jealous because I was insecure. And at that point I knew I had blown it. I knew our relationship was destined to end sooner than later, because she could never trust me to act selflessly. Once a trust is gone, it is very hard to regain. That night had been a test, whether intentional or not, and I failed. A few short months later, that summer would mark the end of our relationship.

But laying in bed, I also came to understand myself a lot better that night, and I vowed that I would never poison another relationship with the taint of jealousy. And true to my vow, I have lived up to being a better man.

Over the following few years, as more girlfriends came and went, there was a recurring theme: every girlfriend after Korin noticed that I was not a jealous man. Some of them went out of their way to comment on it, some times in amazement.

In the summer of 1990 I met a woman, Debbie, that I ended up living together with for a while. As she was heading out one night to party with her friends she asked what I was going to be doing. "Just reading, maybe watch a little TV." She then asked if I knew she was meeting up with some male friends of hers. I said yes. "And you're perfectly OK with that?" Again, yes. I was happy just to stay back and spend some time with her two kids, I didn't need to be with her every night. I suspect at that moment she was slightly in awe.

Then again around 1993 I was dating a woman named Ivy. Ivy had many friends who were men. As I was working as a mobile DJ at that time, there were many Friday and Saturday nights when I had to work and Ivy was free to party with her friends, both men and women. She also commented that I didn't seem to be upset about her having fun without me, and I simply let her know that I wanted her to have a life that didn't depend on me for happiness, but one where I could add to the happiness. Again, another speechless moment for her.

And finally to my current wife, who I'm glad has friends of her own and has a life that does not completely revolve around just being married to me. She went through much the same deal with me working weekends as a DJ before we were married. I wasn't jealous of her being able to go out without me, I was happy for her, knowing that she was having fun and living her life.

Still, I look back to 1989 whenever I hear U2's song Desire, and thank Korin for helping me learn that jealousy has no place in a solid relationship.