I think I'm paranoid; too complicated

Here we go again. I remember writing that the periods of my irrational, ridiculous, paranoid, childish insecurity are diminishing and becoming less frequent, and that is still true. But they aren't gone completely and it strikes me that I have entered my latest one tonight. I think that perhaps writing about how I feel will help me, because I will read it back and think "You're being such a dick! Stop it! Cease! Desist!" and then that'll happen. Possibly.

I trust Kat with my life. Implicitly and unconditionally. The part of my mind that remains rational during these insecure periods knows how much she loves me, how dedicated to me she is, how committed she is. Why then, you might (justifiably) say, does the insecurity raise its head in the first place? Believe me, I wish I knew. Then, perhaps, I might be able to fucking do something about it.

At least this time I know what's triggered it. A completely innocent party in all this, a friend of hers who goes by the name of Nikolai. By all accounts he's a lovely bloke, although I've never met him. From what I've heard he's also a gentleman. I don't attach any responsibility to him, let me make that clear.

Early on in our relationship, Nikolai hung out at Kat's apartment and the two of them polished off most of a bottle of whisky and as a result were understandably quite drunk. Nikolai is a good-looking bloke who doesn't really do commitment, and is used to getting his own way with the ladies. That night he expressed an interest in sex. Kat turned him down flat, as you would expect: "That's not going to happen; I'm seeing someone else." He accepted this. He made no further moves or tried his luck again. They shared Kat's bed - she has no spare room - and he brought her breakfast in bed in the morning. He left shortly afterwards. Nothing untoward in any of this. You can see what I mean when I describe him as a gentleman! Even under the affluence of incohol, he instantly accepted it when she said she wasn't interested and that was the end of it. If only all men (and women) had willpower and principles as strong as that. And he's there tonight, right now, and they're having a bottle of wine and watching TV, or listening to music and having a chat, just like friends do.

You're probably beginning to understand by now what I say when I use the adjective "irrational" when I refer to my insecurity. The story has nothing in it to raise any sort of reasonable objection. Sure, some people might object to their other halves sharing a bed with anyone of the opposite sex, no matter what the circumstances, but I am not one of those people. I don't purport to criticise those people or to consider my own opinion superior; their line in the sand is just in a different place to mine. Last Friday night, Kat shared a bed with her best friend, Uffe, who's a ridiculously good-looking Danish feller with whom I think I get on very well. I have no issues with either instance and I say that with utter conviction.

I think this shows that I am making progress. The me of even two years ago would have developed this sort of insecurity but might have actually paid attention to it, letting it sabotage my relationship or friendships with people and letting it actually cause damage. This version of me is determined that that will not happen. It is up to me and me alone to silence this side of my personality.

So, what form does it actually take? Well, mostly, it's the repetitive and insistent voice that wants to know "what if?"

What if Kat gets too drunk and he takes advantage of her? Worse than that, what if she is willingly engaging in all sorts of debauchery as I type these very words? What if she gets sufficiently frustrated of the distance between you that she makes a habit of this to stop herself getting bored? What if she realises, as a result of this, that she doesn't need you at all? At this point, the voice starts to sneer at me. It says, well, I'll tell you what: you'd be alone again. Your world would be a wreck. In all senses except the literal, your life would be over. The thought terrifies me to the extent that my insides seem to actually curl up on themselves. I have tried just not thinking about it, but it's like the elephant in the room. The more I try not to think about it, the more vivid the images my imagination helpfully contributes.

And yet, detached from this, is the normal part of my mind that in these instances just happens to have been shoved to one side. "What the fuck?!" it offers to the debate. "What kind of mind comes up with scenarios like that?! You're being the most ridiculous, pathetic excuse for an adult human being that you possibly could be at this moment. How dare you doubt a girl who has done nothing but improve your life since she entered it? How fucking dare you even imagine that a girl who has done nothing but love you would behave like that?!"

Crucially, I think, I know that it's that part of my mind that I have to listen to. Each time I go through this, the rational voice gets a little bit louder in relation to the paranoid one. I like this trend because it gives me hope that, one day, I won't ever have to listen to that awful, insistent insecurity again.