Whenever I start a new relationship it seems like it's only a matter of time before the green-eyed monster shows up. Jealousy or, in the words of sex researcher and author Havelock Ellis, "that dragon which slays love under the pretence of keeping it alive," is never far behind. He's the big ugly scavenger who swoops down on me and my new beau and our newly built nest, ready to start picking apart our bliss.

He doesn't single me out of course. I know he gets around to most couples, but no matter how vigilant I try to be, he always seems to sneak up on me. He always seems to get his claws on my forwarding address.

I'm sure other folks have more mature response styles. I keep repeating the words: "I will not start acting like a jealous queen," but I always end up proving the lie to my contention. It might happen suddenly when my guy and I are walking merrily down the street and I catch his eye following the cute behind of the slim, swarthy boy who just walked out of Banana Republic. Or maybe it's in the locker room at the gym, where so many fellows seem so reluctant to put their clothes back on after a shower. Maybe it's even something as trivial as a model's picture on the cover of Men's Health that prompts a proclamation such as "Now there's a hottie!"

Could I sound any more insecure? It doesn't stop me —nor does it keep the green-eyed monster from gloating: "Gotcha!"

My guess is I'm not the only pouting partner in the world who doesn't enjoy it when the object of my affection's head spins to get a better look at some other object's appealing parts. Deep down, don't we all want to feel that when we're in the room, our lovers only have eyes for us?

In a restaurant on the very first date of a previous relationship, I noticed my partner repeatedly looking at something behind me. The "something" turned out to be a Greek god who managed to nearly rotate my date's head on its axis as the deity passed our table on his way out. Years later when the relationship ended, my ex insisted that I'd never gotten over that first faux pas. Maybe he was right.

Therapy has at least shed some light on the subject even if it hasn't totally de-fanged the dragon. I know jealousy isn't limited to pretty faces and hot bods. We can be jealous of work, family, friends. . . I've also become more acquainted with the concept of projection. I've watched helplessly as I accused or suspected a significant other of having weaknesses I'd rather not claim as my own. Admittedly my eyes have wandered. The words "Physician, heal thyself" come to mind.

"In jealousy there is more of self-love than love," said 17^th Century French classical author François De La Rochefoucauld. In other words it's all about me. It's also about the pesky human tendency to want to hoard the good stuff, to guard our treasures from predators. Mine mine mine we like to say or think. Even though it's never entirely true.

In his elegant and provocative book "Soul Mates" (Harper Collins, 1994), Thomas Moore writes: "Love serves the soul, even its jealousy, by making us crazy in one way or another. This craziness is simply the breakdown of our defenses . . . The self-pity that often lies at the heart of jealousy involves strong resistance against feeling one's own true inadequacies and failures."

Ouch.

I've been repeatedly amazed at how quickly the initial bravado and the jolt of self-confidence that comes with new love can turn on a dime into self-doubt and fear. Sometimes all it takes is just one look, and suddenly the same voices that like to tell me I'm not good enough, are suggesting that if my boyfriend's eyes can so easily wander, can his heart be far behind?

It's hard making relationships work. Role models seem rarer than bears at a circuit party. Friends can often appear much more interested in what's going wrong in a relationship than in what's wonderful about it. Try telling your single buddies about the cozy weekend you spent cuddling on the couch with your mate and watch their eyes glaze over. Never mind that most states and nations still outlaw our unions. Or that many churches won't have us, and many of our families tolerate us at best. Or that most of our media imply that the most important thing for attracting true love is a low percentage of body fat.

You love, you learn, to quote Alannis Morrissette. Part of the hard work of a relationship is learning that love does not equal possession, and that being partnered does not make you whole. If we know we can not only survive but thrive whether or not our lover remains true, it can go a long way toward knocking out a few of the dragon's teeth. Deciding to lose the losing battle to control someone else's behavior can take a real load off, but it's way easier said than done. Especially when there's always a younger, prettier, tempting alternative to all the effort of staying healthy and happy together.

Of course, few of us become blind to the attractions of others just because we're taken. Like most clichés, "married but not dead" has its ring of truth. But unless we've given each other permission to sniff fresh meat, is it such a regressive strategy to try to fool the dragon by keeping our mouths shut and our eyes in their sockets when the pretty alternatives prance by?

I seldom hear a straight, married man or woman say in the presence of his or her significant other, "Look at the ass on him/her!" when a nice one walks into the room. Does that mean they don't say it to themselves or to others behind their partners' backs or that they don't notice? Probably not. They just seem more likely to bite their tongues.

So why is it acceptable for my lover or me to yell, "Yum!" when an unfamiliar derrière strikes one of us as delish? Are we just a freer people? Unencumbered by the repressive constraints of heterosexual relationship norms? Do I need to hear about or see who else lights a fire behind my boyfriend's eyes? Does he need that kind of data from me?

I don't have the answers to my questions. I know I could strive to rise above seemingly petty concerns about who else is serving as eye candy for my mate. I could learn to focus on how to feel more secure and how to love with an open heart and mind rather than with a clenched fist or a sense of entitlement. I could try not to be such a tightass. I'll even concede that monitoring our responses to extramarital stimuli may be one of the cheaper tricks in the How To Manage Jealousy handbook.

But if it comes down to a choice we can make between respect and reassurance or raising a red flag, between fooling or feeding the dragon, might it serve us better to try to starve the beast? I can't say for sure, but I'm betting there's an ex-boyfriend of mine out there somewhere, who would nod in agreement.

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