Why did I really feel annoyed? They were happy; I was jealous

By David McElroy · July 15, 2020

It was just a few minutes after 11 p.m. when I put Lucy’s leash on her and we headed outside for our late-night walk.

Before I even got outside, I heard unexpected noise. It sounded like people laughing. They were loud. I felt annoyed.

When I opened the front door and stepped outside with Lucy, I realized that my young next-door neighbor had a group of people over. I don’t know how many. I saw at least six extra cars.

They were at the back of the house — possibly in the back yard right next to mine — and they were loud enough that I could hear them talking and laughing all the way to the street in front of our houses. I felt mildly angry.

“He shouldn’t be having this kind of loud party this late,” I thought, “especially on a weeknight.”

As I silently walked down the street with Lucy, I kept hearing their laughter. And then it hit me why I felt angry.

They were happy. I’m not. And I felt jealous of them.

It was a shock to realize that I felt that way, but I knew it was true. I didn’t want to be them. I don’t even like parties. The louder and more crowded a party is, the more I want to leave. So I didn’t want to go join them.

I just wanted to be happy. I was jealous that they were happy — experiencing the enjoyment of people they liked and cared about, or whatever made them feel happy — and I wasn’t.

How long has it been? How long has it been since I really felt happy, I mean?

I couldn’t remember at first. Even when I’ve spent time with friends in the last few years, I hadn’t been happy in more than a fleeting way. When I’ve tried to date women in the last few years, I was mostly miserable. Even when I forced one of those relationships to last for about four months — and it seemed longer — I was miserable.

Then I remembered when I had last felt happy. I realized that I could probably put a couple of dates on it.

I was because of a woman. That’s the way it always seems to be for me. When I’m happy, I’m in love. I feel loved, too. I feel as though I have an emotionally secure future.

It’s been almost six years since I felt that way. Not quite. Five and a half years since it ended? I’m not going to quibble over the timing. I went from being on top of the world — happy with love and what I saw as my future — to having it all crash and burn in that short time.

The whole thing took about six months from start to finish. I can pinpoint the night when it died. I could tell you the date if I looked at a calendar, but it was that Friday night in December when my hopes for happiness died.

A month before, everything had seemed perfect. I had felt loved and adored by someone who I loved and adored.

When I put myself back into that frame of mind — from the vantage point of tonight — I’m shocked at what it feels like. It was the happiest I had ever been.

A lot has happened since the late December night. I’ve put on a brave face and acted happy at times. I’ve tried to do things to make myself happy again. I’ve thrown myself into work at times. But all my efforts seemed ridiculous to me tonight.

After I got home, I went out into my darkened back yard. All the lights were on in the house next door. There were still loud voices. The grill on the back porch smelled like something good that had been cooked earlier.

The back door was open to the pleasant summer breeze. The party had been inside and out, it seemed. A happy dog went back and forth between the yard and the people who had moved inside. Everybody was happy. They were content.

I wasn’t angry with them anymore.

I don’t want to be them. I really don’t. Their way of having fun and being happy probably isn’t much like mine.

But I wanted to be with someone else. I wanted to be with someone who loved me. I wanted to be with someone who I loved. I wanted to feel as though I’m home again.

For now, I’m just jealous that someone else is happy. I’m jealous because I don’t know how to make my heart happy again.

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I’m seeing a lot of simplistic and dishonest explanations right now for the current rioting in France. Those on the populist far right claim it’s all about Muslim immigrants to France disrupting the culture. Their message is that this sort of thing is going to happen in the U.S. unless “we defend the border.” On the far left, socialists and their fellow travelers claim the riots are all about wealthy people in France not paying enough taxes, resulting in cuts to government services. The truth is far more complicated, but it’s rooted in the decline of population growth in Europe. There simply aren’t enough young workers paying into the tax system anymore, so cuts in social services were inevitable. There is genuine cultural tension as more and more people immigrate from other countries, but government cuts to education and other services are even more important to what’s happening. The situation is complicated, so don’t let dishonest people with U.S. political agendas tell you that it happens to support whatever they were already promoting for partisan reasons.

Here’s another reason to appreciate the cats in your life: New research involving 93 countries found that places with more cats per person also tended to have happier people. The researchers say the finding fits with previous evidence that living with pets can reduce loneliness and stress while providing companionship, emotional attachment and social support. The study doesn’t prove that cats cause greater happiness, but it certainly adds to the evidence that sharing your home — and your life — with a cat might be good for you.

The company that owns Facebook and Instagram is heavily promoting its new AI-based software assistant called Muse, but people who are using it as it was designed are incredibly foolish. An early adopter of the software discovered that a few days ago when he advertised an item for sale on Facebook Marketplace — and he inadvertently gave Muse full authority to act on his behalf. The software agreed to a lowball offer made by another Facebook user and then gave that man the home address of the man for whom he was an agent. The software told the buyer that the seller was home and waiting for him. When the buyer showed up and waited angrily, the would-be buyer left an angry review for the man. And this angry man had the seller’s home address. It was only well after that that the software reported what it had done and admitted it had made a mistake. I won’t be putting that much power into the hands of any software. I think anyone who agrees to such terms is a fool. And the software’s user agreement says you’re responsible for purchases the software makes in your name. Nope.

Meet my new girlfriend. Her name is Meg. And she’s my little sweetheart. A couple of months ago, a neighbor across the street told me about a new stray in the neighborhood that she and I were both soon feeding. The cat had been very skittish about contact and she had a lot of scabs and parasites in her fur, but a trip to the vet last week revealed that she was otherwise in good health. The vet estimates her to be 1 to 2 years old. I named her for Meg Murry, the 13-year-old protagonist of Madeleine L’Engle’s wonderful book, “A Wrinkle in Time.” (Please read the book. Don’t watch the horrible movie.) Since we lost Lucy almost a year ago, it seems appropriate that we finally have a new little girl to join the household. She’s already captured my heart, but Alex, Oliver and Sam aren’t there quite yet.

There’s nothing socially acceptable that’s as dangerous as drinking alcohol. Most people grow up being told to “drink responsibly” — and all of us see people abusing this drug in one way or another — but the truth is that drinking alcohol is always a terrible risk. The alcohol in these drinks is toxic and the human liver has to work hard to filter the toxins out. What most people don’t realize is that alcohol is classified as a known carcinogen by the World Health Organization — because of the well-established connection between imbibing and various cancers. Many people have taken refuge behind the idea that light or moderate drinking might be safe, but a new study shows that drinking even one drink a day increases the risks of 10 types of cancer. When I was a teen-ager, I looked around and saw the negative effects that this behavior had on a lot of people and decided not to start drinking, so I’ve never even tried this poison. The evidence keeps piling up that I was lucky to have come to that conclusion early.

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