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Snooping: the Gateway Drug
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Photo by cheersbarnaby.blogspot.com
Call it divine intervention, an eerie coincidence, or some higher power’s heed, but the April issue of Glamour magazine couldn’t have come at a better time. In fact, I’d like to go as far as acclaiming that publication for salvaging my relationship before any more self-destruction was completed. If you read my recent article Cohabitation Nation I discuss my thoughts on the subject of cohabitation, and how for years I was strictly opposed to the notion. Not for religious reasons, but more on sociological grounds. Needless to say, when love struck me and I changed my mind, I panicked a bit at my pending role as the live-in girlfriend, committed the ultimate relationship offense and began my pursuit for all of the skeletons my boyfriend of two years had to be veiling.
The article in Glamour titled, "Do You Snoop in His Stuff? Should You?" was discovered right about the time my own investigation began. It started innocently enough – looking over his shoulder when he’d receive a text message or taking a glimpse at his computer’s photo file while he was showering. I had never committed such a heinous act of insecurity in the past, but what came over me engulfed every ounce of rationality I had left. I’m not placing all of the blame on myself, however, since the occasional text to him from an ex-girlfriend a while back triggered my sudden curiosity.
Nevertheless, it became addicting. I’m proud to say I have never experienced a codependency on narcotics, alcohol, nicotine, Internet porn, prescription drugs, gambling, or food; but this vice had suddenly taken over my thoughts, energy, sleep and time. I can only imagine now how difficult trying to pry oneself away from the aforementioned must be.
Spending hours in front of my computer at work, I began fervently trying to guess his passwords to every cyber outlet under the sun. My mind had never been so littered with devious strategies before, and I was amazed at what imaginary scenarios I was coming up with, determined to catch my beloved beau in some torrid affair.
When I came across Glamour’s article I was already neck-deep into my Nancy Drew tendencies and was struggling to escape. The story had a column box that outlined the four degrees of snooping which were categorized from “Totally Fair” down to “Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” You can probably guess which group I fell under.
The “Totally Fair” category stated that going through his photos was permissible since it’s a “public album” that’s similar to an issue of People, but all about him. Check.
The “Sometimes Fair” category considered opening a closed drawer of his is “not a big deal” since you could’ve been looking for your, umm…hair tie. Check.
The “Not So Fair” category stated that reading his email is not innocent, and hacking into it is actually illegal. Check, check.
Finally, the “Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” category I am proud to say I hadn’t lowered myself to (yet) considered following your guy to a bar on guys’ night while donning a wig and sitting in the corner watching him just plain nuts. Although I think committing a felony offense for e-mail hacking should probably be listed in this class as well, which at one point I became successful at and found remnants of his relationship past he wanted to keep buried.
What followed in my situation was only an avalanche of circumstances attributed only to my own fears about the relationship. Naturally everyone has a romantic past, and I certainly discovered some of his that I figured most girls are curious to know: his exes, what kind of relationship they had, why they broke up, what they looked like, etc. But at what point do you need to stop yourself and say, “Enough is enough”? The only thing this experience taught me was that past relationships are irrelevant and have no bearing on the current one unless issues like infidelity or abuse were prevalent. All I did was invade the past of someone I love, and made myself look foolish in the process.
If you’re ever in a similar situation that appears tempting, ask yourself if the act is worth the cost. After coming clean to my guy about what had occurred, I was lucky enough to be forgiven. But we both know it happened, and that a breach of trust was broken on both ends. The verity is that snooping “just a little” is a wonderful fantasy, but even as much as opening a dresser drawer can become a gateway drug to the whole shebang. I’m confident time will mend the mess, but the memory is always there looming, and the thought of it evermore hurtful.
As far as the Glamour article is concerned, I have to argue that snooping shouldn’t be categorized in measurements because it either is or isn’t. There is no intermediate place where you can cross the line to a precise point then stop while you’re ahead and admit no fault. If you snoop through your man’s things, be prepared for the worst or don’t do it at all. I’m not advocating turning a blind eye if you have evidence of deceit that would make or break your union, but do you really want to explain to your family that the break-up with Prince Charming was the result of your own selfish curiosity? I didn’t think so.
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