Jools Oliver Is A Trusting Wife

July 10, 2012 / Posted by:

Snooping on a piece is a full-time job and forces you to ignore whatever sanity you have left in order to find out the truth according to your delusions. When I was 18, I had this boyfriend who I swore was passing his peen to other whores even though I had zero proof of this and he constantly denied it. Trying to figure out if he was dipping his dick in side ass turned me into a crazed, psychotic ninja. In my defense, I was 18, so I always had to live inside of a Mary J. Blige song. It was always extra EXTRA dramatic. I tried to figure out the password to his Hotmail account, but I couldn’t and I think I locked him out of his account a few times by trying (sorry for that, first real boyfriend). The question to re-set the password was “What was the name of the street you grew up on?” I got my answer by playing the porn star name game with him. You know, I told him to pair the name of the street he grew up on with the name of his first pet to get his porn star name. He gave it to me, I got in and didn’t find shit! He asked me if I re-set his password and I lied. Did not finding any evidence of side-dicking make me breath a sigh of relief and move on? Nope. It made me crazier and I was convinced he had another e-mail account I didn’t know of.

I made fake profiles of dudes I thought were his type on several gay dating sites and waited for him to answer. He never did. As I waited for my boyfriend to fall into the Internet dick-trap I set, I tried to check the voicemail on his phone every time I was alone with it. Dude finally caught me and practically super glued his phone to the inside of his ass cheeks by taking it with him wherever he went including the bathroom. The lowest point came when I told myself that I had to get his voicemail password. I listened  to the sound the keys on his cell phone made when he punched his password in it next to me. I tried to recreate that sound and it didn’t work. That sound I tried to recreate is now known as the INSANE SLUT Symphony.

Even when one of my friends tried to fuck some truth into me by saying to me, “Um…. if you can’t trust the bitch, maybe you shouldn’t be with him. And you’re crazy.“, I didn’t stop. Eventually, we broke up and it wasn’t because of another dude, but it should’ve been because of another dude. I’m talking about a dude in a white coat who should’ve dragged me to the nearest mental hospital for being an insecure, crazy bitch. And that leads me to Jools Oliver.

Jools Oliver has been married to British chef and warrior against fatness Jamie Oliver for 12 years. They have four chirruns together named (Note: If you’re currently writing a children’s book about gay raver animals who live in the Enchanted Forest, here’s your character names) Poppy Honey, Daisy Boo, Petal Blossom and Buddy Bear. Jools and Jamie have both said that they have a happy and trusting marriage. Jools told People in 2008 that she doesn’t think Jamie will ever cheat on her. But recently, Jools said in an interview that she always checks Jamie’s e-mail and Twitter accounts to make sure he’s not humping tricks behind her back. From the Daily Mail:

‘Yeah, I’ll check his email. I’ll check his Twitter. I’ll check his phone. Everything seems fine,’ she said. ‘He says I’m a jealous girl, but I think I’m fairly laid-back, considering.’

Her confession comes as a particular surprise as she and Oliver have previously spoken about their absolute trust in each other.

In fact, Mrs Oliver was once ridiculed for saying she was certain he would never cheat on her during his long absences filming cookery programmes.

In a 2008 interview, she said: ‘I am very secure. People say “Oh you can’t trust a man 100 per cent,” but I’m afraid I say I can.

‘They say every man will have an affair, but I really don’t think mine will.
‘Actually, I know he won’t.’

Dear Jools, take it from my 18-year-old crazy self, nothing good can come from snooping. Besides, Jools shouldn’t spend her free time reading her husband’s private e-mails. She should spend her free time Googling, “how naming your kids after The Wuzzles could turn them against you in the future.”

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