Ask Harriet
Dear Harriet,
I just came out so I’m new to the whole relationship thing. Yesterday I caught my boyfriend checking my internet history when he used my computer to check his email. I didn’t say anything at the time, but — is that acceptable curiosity, or spying? — Confused About Privacy
I’m going to assume you and Mr. Nosey are a relatively recent item, CAP. If you guys have been together for a while, then chances are he already knows all about what piques your interest online, even if you think he doesn’t. You can’t hide what you’re into with someone you share underwear with. I know this from sad personal experience. Many sad, personal experiences, but mainly the time I found out that my boyfriend, oh, let’s call him “Ted,” actually was sharing my underwear. Fortunately Victoria’s Secret has a little-known pick-up-and-incinerate service for those unmentionables you never want to see again because you’ll always picture them (shudder) trying to hide your boyfriend’s junk.
But that’s not your problem, CAP. For all I know your honey’s junk looks just fine in your boxer briefs. What we’re talking about here, though, is your internet junk. And in a way, it’s just like what you’re packing downstairs: when you’re single, no one ever sees it but you (however often that might be for you). But when you’re with someone, you’re naked to them. That’s great when you’re messing around, but it still means you’re completely exposed. And that’s true not just for your biscuits and gravy, but for your whole life. Your boyfriend just pantsed you, metaphorically speaking.
Whether this is acceptable behavior or a violation punishable by some ruthless form of retribution, like forcing him to watch an entire episode of Lipstick Jungle, depends on how serious you two are. If you invite a trick over for an afternoon session of mattress rugby, his privacy access level is pretty much limited to speculation about your favorite color based on the Hanes you have on when you meet him at the door. He’s really not entitled to know about the crayon allergies your childhood dog suffered from (discovered entirely by accident, I swear).
But if you’ve crossed that nebulous line into being “together,” which this talk of boyfriends and relationships suggests, then the time for secrecy is over. He’s entitled to know what he’s getting into. If you want a relationship to explode spectacularly in your face, leaving you scarred for life like the Phantom of the Opera (the Lon Chaney monster version, I mean, not the Gerard Butler mask-accessorized oh-so-pretty GQ-cover boy version), or that whack Korean villain guy from Die Another Day with the freaking diamonds in his face, there’s no better way to go about making that happen than hiding from your boyfriend what’s important to you. And there’s nothing — nothing — more important than what turns you on.
I hear you protesting, CAP, that you never said you had porn or anything prurient on your internet history. Neither did I. If you’re a secret Dick Cheney in 2008 booster (if you haven’t heard about the campaign, that means it’s working, you naïve, naïve fools), that’s part of what turns you on. If you visit the ijustlovelovelovegilmoregirls facebook group three or four or 100 times a day, that’s part of what turns you on. If you regularly visit the New York Times humor page and keep trying to contribute lame amateur “late night” jokes even though the shows are all back and we have professionally lame monologues again, well, that’s part of what turns you on as well, you pathetic weirdo.
That said — c’mon, it’s porn, right? And if you’re having vanilla butt-sex with him all night but then waiting until he leaves for work and then monkey-spanking all morning to kinky stories about guys who fellate powertools or get off on using Vick’s Vaporub for lube (owww!!), it’ll all seem fun and innocent and harmless to you right up until the absolutely unavoidable day he finds out and realizes (a) he doesn’t know you and (b) you don’t trust him.
The worst part is, you might be missing out on a boyfriend game enough to mix your internet persona into your real-life intimate encounters. Sure, he might be horrified, but since there’s nothing more real about you than your turn-ons, that means he’s horrified by you and what you have together is fake and ephemeral — which then goes under the heading of screwing around, not a relationship. But if you’re “together,” there’s a good chance he’ll accept whatever side of you you’re hiding, as long as you haven’t been hiding it for so long that when it comes out it feels like a deleted scene from All About Eve. And you might even find someone to go with you to those midnight Cheney rallies down at the secret meeting hall downtown everyone thinks is an abandoned Elks Lodge. Wouldn’t that be sweet?
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