A Little Emerald to the Diamond.

Writers are narcissists: They presume that their personal obsessions and neuroses are of deep fascination — or even beneficial — to potentially millions of people.

- Brian McGreevy, in his article, 'Don't Call Lena Dunham Brave'. 

I'm a "writer". Please insert your own airquotes.
And with that in mind, know that I have written and rewritten this post a couple times this morning.
I have also embraced the fact that I am a bit of a narcissist. "A bit."
I am comfortable with that as well.

So, all morning, as I have reheated my coffee while I researched brain functions and hemispheres and was going to try and propose that women (and by women, I mean me and hopefully whoever else it is who reads this little blog) have three parts to their brains, until I realized that all people have three parts to their brains. (The cerebellum, the cerebrum and the brain stem.)
I was going to try and say that the Left Side controls reason and the right hand, the Right Side controls imagination and the left hand, and a (self)Center section that controls all that is the self-centered and unreasonable that goes on in our brains. (Hopefully, this section does not control our mouths.)
But then I realized that that too is silly.
Hell, forget the Conscious & the Unconscious or the Ego, the Superego and the Id.
It's all a weak analogy for one simple thing.
Like most of my postings, all I am doing is trying to find a related metaphor for the emotions that make me feel really uncomfortable; in this case, under the guise of pseudoscientific jargon in order to justify or dissect what exactly it is I am feeling. 

Because, my neuroses are of deep fascination to potentially [seven] people. Right? Right?!?

Why am I uncomfortable with my emotions today, the day after Valentine's Day?
Because one of my very Best Friends got engaged yesterday.
On top of a mountain covered in snow.

I am over the moon happy for her. 
She deserves love and a beautiful wedding and marriage.
I love her! She's one of my very Best Friends!
Captial BFF!

That being said, the event caused an avalanche of the 'What about Meeeeeees?!?'

Which is one, very selfish, and two, very embarrassing.
So the psuedoscientific babble, the justification of it all - The whole rumble of emotions that took over in the moment, they make me flat out uncomfortable.
I realized that it is not a third, yet to be discovered, part of my brain, nor is it my sub-id or whateverego.
The fact of the matter is simple: I am Jealous. 
Not totally unlike a mentally ill person who knows that the voices in their head are Crazy but cannot help but follow their directions, you see. I know that it is immature and stupid to be jealous of such a wonderful thing, but I cannot seem to follow that knowledge's directions.
And in writing this so plainly, I am trying to exorsize those crazy making voices of envy a little.

To be perfectly honest, I couldn't help but wonder (no matter how unrealistic I knew it was) if maybe Valentine's Day would be the day he asked me.
I thought this about Christmas too.
Its these thoughts that you have that you know (you know!) are crazy, that you know aren't realistic, and you literally have to talk yourself down through reason and logic (Oh hel-lo Left Brain, welcome to the party) and even then, part of the thought persists.

I'll probably think it about my birthday, our anniversary  any nice dinner ever or weekend trip, I assure you. I can't help it; I want it so much, it's unwavering. It's in these moments that I get frustrated that he was married before, and engaged quickly the first time. As though somehow, if that hadn't been the case, our timeline would be different. While the reasonable, logical side of me knows that if that hadn't been case in the first place, we may not even be together. Regardless, the thought persists.

green with.

So, when I saw this momentous event in my newsfeed, for a person I love so much, I was (and am) happy.
And then...

I was jealous. 

I cannot be the only one who finds them feeling this way every once and while at the sight of these things in their newsfeed or text inbox, right? Right?!

I was overcome by shame for my jealously, but alas, that did not make it go away.
It stuck in my chest, and produced the most unflattering semi-permanent facial expression and then unfortunately, because I knew that my boyfriend was not going to propose, and my boyfriend did not propose, my Valentine's Day was somehow sub-par.
Which is really unlike me, as I am typically pretty good about not putting too high of expectations on events or holidays like this - rather focusing on what I can control as opposed to what I cannot.
It's not Jim's fault that I was bummed this Valentine's.
I wasn't even bummed, we had a lovely evening at home (our home!) together.
He made me a sweet Valentine & I did the same for him.
It was exactly what we had planned - low key with tacos and tv.

whomp.

He didn't get me flowers, and his Valentine was made from copy paper and Scotch tape, and I was disappointed. Because she got a 2.2 carat ring & I am jealous of that, and so then something that any other day I would think was the sweetest thing (it had a poem, you guys!) all of the sudden doesn't have the same (ahem) sparkle.

The whole of it makes me feel adolescent and shallow. And, very very ashamed.
The whole of it also wants to have pity party in my bathtub with bottle of Vueve and a good cry, but I will not give my jealousy the satisfaction. I will not, I tell you! 
All of the sudden, my boyfriend's inability to tell me that he 'loves me more than anything ever in his life in the entire world over' is not because he simply doesn't speak in such hyperbole about his feelings (something I know about him, and typically respect) becomes he doesn't love me as much as I thought.
Somehow yesterday, 'To the moon and back four times' wasn't enough. It was all I could do not to turn to my boyfriend and say point blank, 'I'm jealous of...' with a pouty face, but I knew to keep that one in.

The truth is, I am jealous. Even though I know it's stupid.
Even though I know that Jim loves me. 
And, most importantly, even though I am happy for my friend. 
It persists.

Yet, in the light of a day I didn't even put much weight into to begin with, under the reflection of a grandiose gesture of love and a lifetime of commitment, not only am I jealous that I didn't get a proposal, but now I didn't even get flowers. Even though, I know that my sometimes too pragmatic boyfriend probably thought to himself, if he thought about it at all, 'Why would I get her flowers? We already have flowers.' (We always have flowers.) Honestly, I wasn't expecting anything other than tacos and a Valentine up until the morning off. And then, it's not enough? I do wonder how much the boy picked up on - I oft think that I am being so opaque - playing it super cool - then later find out exactly how transparent I truly am.
This is an emotion I am not accustomed to feeling; and I know that with time it will fade - I expect by sometime around 2 or 3 pm this afternoon - but for the moment, for the morning, I am trying to work through it.

This gang of immature emotions, this gang I can't seem to shake, its just about to jump me in.

So, I decided to fight it. I fight it by doing this.

And that's the best I can do, right?

Funny.
Even in the time of writing this, the feelings started to fade. I could tell, because I just started to get really excited about the specifics that go along with throwing a bridal shower.

And I feel as though I should note that I am in no way am trying to take away from my friend's engagement, and am truly very very happy for her, but this is my platform, and sometimes the view from the perch that is my brain - made up of three parts - is not the prettiest. Or the most mature. 
I am - from my core - so happy for you, James. 
I love you. 
Thats why this is so frickin' uncomfortable.
Also, you better let me pin to your wedding board, or else. 
I should also mention that I will not drink anything, anything! out of a penis shaped straw.