SOMETHING I SAID, By Dwight Hobbes—Jealousy. It happens in a relationship. Anybody who denies that lies.

God knows why — which may go to prove even He ain’t perfect — jealousy, like sugar, honey and iced tea, is a fact of life. Hell, even married people have to deal with it, suffering niggling insecurities that can undermine the greatest self-confidence.
Don’t think so? You can be a handsome hulk, sky-high I.Q., sensitive as Kleenex tissue. Find yourself catching a look in your woman’s eye, a special glint, as she sets sight on a guy across the way. Doesn’t matter you know she’s faithful. Feelings, after all, are irrational. Your gut, however fleetingly, lurches as reason leaves and you see red.
You can be foxy fine, intelligent and sensible. Find yourself seeing your man cast an interested glance at a lady. Don’t matter whether you know he’s loyal. Your circuits are on the verge of shorting out.
Do yourself a favor (people who succeed at long lasting romance learn to get past this point) and accept that occasional insecurity comes along with being human. Sorry, it’s a package deal.
Where most folk foul up is they foolishly let said understandable failing get the best of things, let jealousy get the best of them.
When you come home together, she’s ready to wind down, fill you both a couple wine glasses, go step in the shower and, if you’re lucky, come back out, having slipped into something comfortable. Something skimpy, see-through and comfortable.
Instead of going with her flow, you just have to remember she looked at him (God forbid if they exchanged two words). You can’t wait to say something stupid like, “I bet you wish it was him (odds are neither you nor she even know his name) you was getting naked for.” Your lady stands there, stupefied, wondering whether you’ve lost your mind. Then, it dawns on her:You’re being a horse’s ass.
Or: You come home, he’s happy to relax, get out of his glad rags, pour you both some wine and see about chasing you around the couch. The door’s barely closed before you weigh in with “I saw you staring at that b***h!” Odds are he looked at more than a few faces and figures, never giving any of them a second thought. And can’t discern, to save his life, which one you’re upset about. He stands there, befuddled. Until it dawns on him: You’re acting stupid.
At this point, sensible folk stand back, take a breath, laugh and lift a glass. Then, she sashays across the floor, hips-switching all the way to the bedroom. And he follows, hip-notized, a man in a trance.
That’s sensible folk. People who don’t know how to deal with insecurity are like that saying, “Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” They’re also hell-bent on making themselves miserable each and every time they try to live happily ever after. They don’t get it.
Jealousy, like death and taxes, is unavoidable. It’s all about how you handle it.

Dwight Hobbes welcomes reader responses to P.O. Box 50357, Mpls., 55403.