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“Absolutely nothing. I’ll be home before nine. Bye.”

And then she just left. She didn’t even look back.

I was beside myself.

I spent an hour in my gym with a punching bag before I was willing to acknowledge what I was feeling.

If she was going to a dance, there would be men there. It was a church function, not an all girls club, so it was literally impossible that there wouldn’t be.

I was jealous. Jealous at even the thought of her talking to other men. Would they think she was single? Did she think she was single?

Was she single?

We didn’t talk about stuff like that, but I just figured she knew we were exclusive. I wouldn’t put my hands on her and then touch someone else, and I just assumed that she knew that’s how it was with us.

I should have gone with her. It would have been worth the risk of me catching on fire as soon as I walked in the door of a church to avoid the way I was feeling right now, which was helpless and shut out.

I started texting her at the two hour mark.

Me: Tell Mayhem and

Mischief I miss them.

When will you be home?

I waited and waited, and she didn’t respond. My mind was on how much more she’d have in common with men she met at church, how much more of what she was looking for that they’d have to offer. In my mind, I was not coming out ahead.

Making her come and making her laugh didn’t seem like enough of an edge to compete with say, sharing her belief system.

What if she met someone? What would I do?

Jealousy was a new emotion for me, and I decided on the spot that I hated it with the passion and heat of a thousand angry suns. I also decided to fight it with both fists—to go down swinging.

Me: Answer me or

I’m going to start sending

you some pics that would

make Jesus blush.

Still no response, but she was back before nine.

I was shirtless in the driveway waiting for her. She stepped out of her car, and I was on her, pinning her to the door and ravishing her mouth like we’d been separated for years instead of hours.

Eventually I pulled back. “Did you miss me?” I panted.

“You’re ridiculous,” was her response.

“I missed you. If you met any men tonight, I’m going kick their asses. If anyone touched you, I’m going to pull them apart with my bare hands.”

“What do you think goes on at these things?” she asked, her eyes squinting at me like I’d lost my mind. “I didn’t even dance with anyone. There are five times as many women as men so you don’t have to worry about anyone looking at me twice.”

“What does that mean? You sound salty about it. Were you looking? Were you hoping someone would look at you twice?”

“Oh, shut up, you crazy bastard,” she said and pulled my lips back to hers.

I was inching her skirt up when I heard it. A high pitched sort of piercing noise. Quite an unpleasant racket, really. I pulled back and stared at her. “What is that?”