I’m just a jealous guy, and I just can’t help it. Despite having been very happily married for 13 years now, with thousands of fantastic memories, I can still get overly jealous. I love the fact that I have a gorgeous wife, and love that other men smile at her, but they need to keep their distance 🙂
Throughout all we’ve been through, there are still some boundaries that I have not crossed. I respect her privacy when it comes to her diary, but not when she’s sitting on the toilet or taking a shower. There’s something magical about seeing my wife half-naked that makes me smile like a little boy – proud to have this awesome woman by my side.
Unfortunately I overstepped a magical boundary by mistake the other day, as I was packing books into moving boxes. An old dusty book, hidden behind boring college books, dropped down and landed on my foot, and some pages fell out. I initially cursed like a sailor, then picked up the fallen book and glanced at the handwritten text. It was my wife’s old diary and I had just read a paragraph about her past … well, it was about an old boyfriend.
If Cecelia Ahern had written a gore version of PS I Love You, I think it would’ve been called Diary of a Serial Killer, and I would happily take the lead role. Listen, if my wife was taken away from me, and had left me her diary to retrace her life, then I would’ve taken the opportunity to erase any past boyfriend she might have had.
Of course, this is not an official threat, but I don’t want to hear or know about her past admirers. It’s totally in the past and should be buried. Again, not literally, in case any past boyfriend reads this post.