Eastside of Long Beach
I’ll never understand for the life of me why two people who are dating will give one another the passwords to their personal email or voicemail accounts. There’s no way in high Hell that I’d ever give up that information. I really don’t see a reason or a need for a significant other to have it. Everybody is entitled to some semblance of privacy in a relationship and chances are that email and cell phones are the last bastions of privacy for both parties involved.
Now it can be said that if you have nothing to hide then it shouldn’t matter. And you’re right. Except you’re not. Just because you have nothing to hide doesn’t mean you should share everything. But of course, not everybody is as smart as I am and many people get duped into giving up their personal information under the guise of full disclosure. Which brings up two questions:
1) If you have your significant other’s password, does that give you freedom to peruse their accounts?
2) Say they didn’t give it to you, but you have it, if you find something that causes you discomfort, are you allowed to bring it up?
Oy vey. Can of worms? Consider yourself opened.
Somehow, in my brain of brains, I don’t think having passwords gives you the freedom to search as you please. But I also realize that temptation is a mother and if a relationship is having issues, the urge to surf thru email to potentially find a culprit is hard to fend off.
(Which is of course why I’d never give up my passwords. Why give somebody the keys to a car you don’t want them to drive? It’s like Halle Berry standing in your living room dripping wet with a condom in one hand and a bottle of Patron in the other with a sign around her neck that says “Don’t touch or I’ll disappear” – that just sucks all the way around.)
However, I think that if you do search through email, then you reserve the right to shut the fuck up about whatever you find and you should deal with it on your own. For one, you have no business going through emails. In the second place, you have no right to question somebody about some shit you found while you were doing something you shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. And I’m an evil enough bastard that I would hope you’d come across something that would drive you apeshit — so apeshit, in fact, that you’d have to bring it to me and hang yourself.
For me, once I’ve lost trust, you might as well just go on ahead and walk it out like an usher because I probably don’t want to see you again.
Babyface asked when could he see you again. Me? Give me the keys to the range and don’t forget to move, bitch. Get out the way.
I’m genuinely interested in responses to those two questions. I tend to think that women are more likely to go through their man’s shit than a man is to go through a woman’s…however, I know both men and women who’ve done both.
To snoop or not to snoop? That is the question.