There are times in my life when I have been jealous, I admit that.
After my first marriage broke down, I was jealous of the fact that my wife got to remain in the nice house in Wimbledon, that eventually netted her a small fortune when she sold it decades later.
I have sometimes been jealous about younger girlfriends. That was based on my own insecurities about age difference, and believing that they would be attracted to younger men if they went anywhere without me. I suppose that can be considered natural, but it affected at least two relationships, teaching me that jealousy can be destructive and pointless.
On the plus side, I have never been jealous about rich people, or possessions. If someone had a better car than me, or a lot more money, I often thought that they had much more to lose, and would ultimately be less happy than I was.
I was jealous of talent.
Unable to play an instrument, or publish a best-selling book, I felt jealousy when confronted with the likes of David Bowie, or Charles Dickens. What did they have, that I lacked? It took me a long time to discover that I lacked perseverance, determination, and not least talent in those fields.
Luckily, I was never once jealous of privilege, the scourge of British society. They could keep their stately homes, those aristocratic benefits, their private education, their silver spoons and inheritances. It never seemed to make them better people, and certainly did not make them nicer or happier people.
I grew older, and became less and less jealous in time.
Wives had to have their free time with friends, so why be jealous of that? If I trusted them, respected them, married them, then that should be enough to make me happy about what they did when I was not around.
Undeniably, everyone is jealous about something, at some time in their lives. If they deny that, I am sorry to say that they are lying.
But live long enough, and you will be content to discover that jealousy is simply wasted energy.
Then you can relax.