Remember how, just 7 short days ago, I was rambling on like a woman afflicted with brain germs, about the joys of younger men? Yes. Good.

Well my friends, the proverbially worm has turned and I’m angrier than a wasp with a hangover.

You see everything was going swimmingly and the horizon looked free from doom, but then, like a poker in the face, misery struck.

He started to question my movements (and by that I mean the places I was going…not my latrine activity), suddenly wanting to know whom I was meeting and whether there would be any other boys there. Initially I dismissed it with a rowdy “mind yer own beeswax sunshine” but his odd new ways persisted. He would call me at strange times just to see where I was and I even caught him trying to check my emails. Never acceptable.

So I confronted the daft weirdo. Just what exactly, was he up to?

Well, it transpired that he was jealous. Not jealous of a particular man, or of a situation or anything specific I’d done. Just plain and simple jealous. Apparently I couldn’t be trusted and men couldn’t be trusted …and friends and colleagues and random passers by on the street couldn’t be trusted. Only Mother Teresa, it seems, was considered remotely trustworthy and that’s because she’s a girl…and dead.

Of course I immediately told him to bugger off and stick his banana in someone else’s split because if there’s one thing I cannot tolerate its jealous paranoia. No excuses, no reasons, just don’t do it.

Well anyway, after I ditched his skinny hind I had a few drinks with an old chum of mine and told her what had occurred. Her immediate response was…

“He was seeing someone on the side”

“What on earth makes you say that?” was my reply.

My chum has a theory that if someone suddenly suspects you of doing something naughty it’s usually because they themselves are doing that very thing.

If they can’t be trusted not to cop off with the first tongue to poke itself in their direction, then they assume that everybody around them behaves in the same way, otherwise they’re forced to view themselves as ‘immoral’ and that, my psychology loving chums, is not good for the noggin.

Turns out she was right of course. He’d been seeing some flighty piece for the past couple of weeks.

I knew it’d end with him wiggling his woggle at someone else and that was fine – I’m just peeved that he made such a song and dance with all the jealous twaddle first.

So anyway, the moral of this not too pleasant tale – if anyone has the cheek to suggest you lack trustworthiness, then make sure you prick up your ears and listen for the foghorn of alarm, you may just find there is more to their accusations than meets the eye…..

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