Actually, let’s back this train up a bit. Relationships are great. They’re great for all of the big things like plus-ones to events that suck to go to by yourself (like weddings, movies, and the all you can eat buffet at CiCi’s Pizza), but they’re also great for the minor and mundane things. Such as sharing, caring, and access to things you might not normally have access to. One such thing is a Netflix password. Sure, the account is only $7.99 for the streaming service, but lots of people don’t like paying that dough. I also can’t blame them.
So the good thing about having a #bae is that there’s a really good chance that one of you will either have or be willing to get a Netflix account which you will share with the other #bae. Which makes it one of the few passwords that is totally understandable to share. You all will agree on some innocuous ass password like, “cuddlebuddy” or “OMGWETOTALLYLOVEEACHOTHER” and then blissful examination of some of the worst movies and documentaries known to man will occur. By the way, for all those folks who lament the fact that we only get but a handful of Black movies a year, you really need to visit Netflix. All you have to do is watch one bad Black movie – something starring Essence Atkins or Clifton Powell will do it – and you will unlock a world you didn’t know exists. It’s like jumping over the flagpole in Super Mario Bros. You will find out that Darrin Dewitt Henson makes a shit ton of movies. You will find out who Christian Keyes is. You will learn that Essence Atkins’s career didn’t end with Smart Guy but that she’s got an entire movie career on the D-List circuit.
And the fucking plays, fam. So many terrible plays.
Blackness is everywhere on Netflix and the only price of admission is a password and one Bad Black movie.
(A word of caution. While this is a key into a world of Black movies, it’s also a black hole. Once you get in it feels like you can never get out. All of a sudden Netflix will attempt to convince you that shit like You Got Served and N-Secure are “popular on Netflix”. You will know this isn’t true but for some odd reason that never changes. Netflix will basically lie to you and judge you at the same time while never letting you out of the self-imposed purgatory of fuckshit. You’ve been warned if you didn’t already know.)
Where were we? Ah yes. Passwords to Netflix. Now if you’re lucky, you and bae will jump the broom and move on up to that deluxe apartment in the sky (with reasonable condo fees). But let’s face it, there’s as good a chance that you won’t. Because Netflix passwords don’t usually come up in the arguments about what went wrong or are tangible in a way that you can throw them in a box and burn them down by the riverside (down by), I’d guess they’re an afterthought. That is until this happens.
We’ve had a bit of a shittastic winter here in DC. It’s been pretty cold and then we kept getting schizophrenic snow patterns. One of those days resulted in a snowday. On this snowday I decided to do what any red-blooded American would do: binge watch television. My poison of choice? House of Cards Season 3. I fired up the SmartTV, hit Netflix and waited for that damn loading screen to finish and then I clicked on HoC ONLY to see that the first five episodes had been watched already. I know I hadn’t watched them, but somebody had. Using my gotdamn account.
This? No bueno.
And it’s not that I’m even mad that somebody has my password and I can’t remember who it was, it’s more like, motherfucker, you don’ started watching it before I could watch it using my own account. It’s like when people ask to borrow the movie you just bought that you haven’t seen yet. They want to actually open up the shrinkwrap themselves on something you paid for. It’s the principle, ya know. So I see that as opposed to letting me watch the season first with my account that I pay my good money for, it’s being watched.
Then I realized, I actually have no fucking clue who has access to my account. It is entirely possible that somebody I no longer speak to is ACTIVELY still using my account to watch TV shows and documentaries and movies when they’re bored. Possibly with their OWN boo who said, “you have a Netflix account?” And they said, “I sure do.”
They are lying.
It could be a friend. A boo. A family member. I remember giving out my password to women I was randomly talking to for a time back in the day when I was young – I’m not a kid anymore, ya know – but I also remember changing my password at least once. But I don’t know. And the not knowing is the rub. And it is not rubbing me the right way.
And it might be okay if along the way I got a random ass “thank you” text message but I never do. I’m inadvertently increasing the joy in somebody else’s life by opening them up to thousands and thousands of movies and television shows they might not ever watch if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m paying for the service. Fuck a $200 date; I’m sponsoring an $8 LIFE, b. If it’s cold outside, they don’t have to leave the house. They can fire up the ‘flix with my money and have a day in butt naked eating bonbons and wearging towels to walk by the window they haven’t purchased drapes for and then drop the towel to hop back in bed and watch some shit that was popular seven years ago.
And this little scam would work perfectly too considering how infrequently I fire up Netflix. But I did. And they broke open the seal on House of Cards before I did and now I know. So I did what any real nigga would do in my situation.
Changed my password.
PJ Petty out.