Recently, I refused to get out of bed. I was hungry, needed food, but what I was craving was a cash only delivery place. When it’s rainy and not so great outside, getting out of bed is a real struggle. I rolled over to face Tattoo Guy and asked him if he’d take my debit card, go to the closest ATM and take out some cash for me. He rolled his eyes; he, too, wasn’t about to get out of bed.
“But I’ll give you a hundred dollars, if you do it!” I pleaded. Again, he said no. “What about a thousand? I’ll give you a thousand!” To which he reminded me that not only do I not have a thousand dollars to hand over for such things, but I didn’t have a hundred dollars to do it either.
“Besides, I don’t want to know your password. That just leads to trouble, and I don’t want that.”
I figured the chances, had he did get himself out of bed and down to the ATM machine, of he memorizing my password, then eventually stealing my very minimal cash in there was pretty non-existent, so I pleaded again. He kindly asked me to stop talking and go back to sleep, because no one should be craving a turkey sandwich at 9am — except me, obviously.
In the past I haven’t had any qualms about sharing my passwords with friends or lovers (again, I use that word because Jennifer hates it and for some reason this will never get old for me in my sick head.) Even those with whom I’ve stopped seeing, but then eventually pop back into my life can sit down at my computer, type in the password and laugh at me for never changing it. Passwords to my email, voicemail (because sometimes I don’t have the heart to delete certain messages on my own), Netflix, Twitter — whatever, I just hand that shit over without a care in the world. Especially since my email is pretty boring and anything I’m going to say behind someone’s back in a ranting email, I’ll eventually say to their face anyway. The only password I keep secret is for my savings account and that’s just because it’s embarrassing low and no one needs to know that my champagne lifestyle is actually being funded on a beer budget. Besides, sometimes secrets are fun!
How do you feel on this subject?
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