I'm not known for a great many things. But if I am known for anything, it's a being a jealous wretch of a human being.
Musical. Theater. |
And I only leave the house when there's Monopoly at McDonalds.
Or maybe I'm just a terrible person.
Regardless of the reason, this is an issue I've had to battle with since the boy I liked in the fourth grade asked out that bitch who was wearing a bra already.
"I pray every night that you get fat." |
1) Dating
When I started dating I was the perfect girlfriend, a paragon of vagina.
... until I realized that my boyfriend had had sex with other women.
At first you gotta be like, "Oh her? She's fabulous! I want to be besties with her! Gorgeous, she looks like she was wearing a bra in the fourth grade!" While on the inside, you're like...
She looks like she was wearing a bra in the fourth grade. |
Cut out the middle man. |
Because if he didn't want you to check his phone every time he left the room or fell unconscious, he shouldn't have ever looked at another woman.
Got to plan ahead with these things. |
But not in a crazy way, just in a 'I just have to know every single person you're talking to and why' way.
The thing about snooping though, is once you pop, you just can't stop.
In fact, very well respected studies...
Have shown that snooping is perhaps the most addictive thing known to man.
In fact, very well respected studies...
From my life. |
Not even once. |
It makes your heart pump, your adrenaline spike, and your fear of God reach an all-time high -- AKA, the closest I'll ever feel to committing murder.
It's a rush. But that rush doesn't stay, You've got to do it again... find something more salacious. Because it's never going to be enough. Oh, when you start, you think:
"I'll just check! Make sure everything's okey-dokey. Just ensure he isn't sticking his dipstick in that dirty bitch from work who keeps liking his cover photos." |
You start by checking just one text, but it's so easy, so you end up checking all of them from the last five years. Then you go through Facebook messages, and emails, searching for terms like "sex meetup," "that bitch from work" and "other things that lower my self-esteem."
And then later, you two will be talking, and he'll be like, "Oh my ex once said..." and you want to cut him off right there and be like--
It's maddening.
When I snooped, I only found bits and pieces of questionable behavior at first: calling an ex-girlfriend "babe" or planning a dinner with that new girl from work.
But I kept digging and eventually did uncover evidence of secret sex-having!
Why the fuck, you ask, would I keep that a secret?
When I snooped, I only found bits and pieces of questionable behavior at first: calling an ex-girlfriend "babe" or planning a dinner with that new girl from work.
But I kept digging and eventually did uncover evidence of secret sex-having!
WHICH, of course, I kept as a secret for the next six months.
As it gradually destroyed me from the inside out. |
Cause I felt the horrible guilt of having been a snoop.
|
Here's the bottom line: there's nothing worse than being a snoop.
Except for being a Lucy, man. Fuck Lucy. |
I mean, yeah, definitely him having sex with a bunch of randos and hiding it from me was super shittier -- definitely shittier than snooping. But being a snoop is different than just doing a bad thing.
Being a snoop means you violated someone's privacy -- and in a relationship, you don't necessarily get a whole lot of that, so privacy is sacred.
Are you listening Mr. Government? |
And either that means they aren't trustworthy:
In which case, kick them to the mother fucking curb. You ain't got time for that. |
And I'm also like, shit... how hard is it just to ask people things? Just ask! It isn't that bad! I had to ask a man at CVS for a pregnancy test, yeast infection cream, clinical strength deodorant, AND if they carried Wonder Balls yet in the same goddamn day. And you know what?
Bitches still don't have Wonder Balls. |
But if that doesn't convince you, let me get real for a second -- in all my many four years of dating experience--
--if I'm snooping on somebody, it means I shouldn't be in that relationship. It's not fair to either person.
It's ESPECIALLY not fair to you.
It's like -- when I'm snooping, I'm just miserable. There is no good outcome. Either I'd get momentary relief from seeing nothing... but it only built the curiosity until the next time. Or, I'd find something, big or small, and then I'd just feel shitty about that all day.
Plus some things are secret for a reason. I figure if I have things that I want to keep to myself...
Like that secret cake in my closet. |
Then you probably do to. It's just common decency to give people that respect.
And love means not being a huge fucking dick to each other.
Thanks Oprah.
Plus, you know what? I stopped snooping. I did it. It was hard work not being a huge asshole... but I managed.
I would have thought it would be so much worse, that I'd be more curious, but I wasn't.
Without anything feeding it, that curiosity dissipated, as did the heavy responsibility of feeling like I had to know everything.
Now I feel so much better.
I'm proud that I became a non-snooper. In fact, a later boyfriend threw a hissy because one time, when passing him his phone, he got a text and I read it. And I'm like... bitch. You have no idea.
But that's not everything. I made a decision a couple of weeks ago. I made a decision while talking to my dad.
Yeah, that classy motherfucker. |
But it was for me. I just hadn't thought about it before. When I did think about it, I remembered that girl who wore a bra in the fourth grade.
Then I took a second and calmed all the jelly in my belly. |
She doesn't have huge, glorious tits to hurt me. She has huge, glorious tits because that's where some of her fat is stored. And that's okay.
Then I realized, damn, you know what, if I want to be like her, then probably she's someone I would want to spend time with.
Plus she's probably equally envious of my sweet, lower-thigh fat deposits. |
If I can't appreciate cool things about other people, then it's no wonder that I feel inadequate about myself. I just got to remind myself sometimes:
So in short, I'm taking on a new perspective, and I already feel so much better about it.
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