Always Feel Like Somebody’s Watchin’ Me

Since we got back from the honeymoon, almost a month ago now, the one question that I get asked, time after time, is: So, what’s different now that you’re married? Usually, I just stutter out something like, “Uh, it’s weird calling her my wife. Wifey. The Mrs.” And though there’s a kernel of truth here, it’s actually not very weird and I kind of like it. In Belize I trotted around the pool bellowing, “Where’s my wife, WHERE’S MY WIFE,” with glee. So aside from having a new, semi-humorous nickname for Ana, not a whole lot has changed.

At least, that’s what I thought up until a few days ago, when Ana told our friends about how I send myself emails with Christmas gift suggestions. Not ideas on what to get friends and family, she excitedly reported, but “weird gadgets that he wants for himself!” (The email, by the way, was pointing to Griffin Techonology’s RadioSHARK, a sort of TiVo for the radio. It suffices to say that this is not weird but rather brilliant and perfectly necessary for any self-respecting NPR aficionado.)

Anyway, it took a couple seconds for the weight of Ana’s last statement to sink in. Slowly, I connected the dots: “Wait, honey, have you been reading my emails?”

Ana hemmed and hawed, and then said, “Well, yeah. Of course.”

“How long have you been doing this?” The walls were beginning to close in and panicked at the thought of her seeing all my private correspondence. Until I realized that, hey, I don’t really have any private correspondence. Except for my emails with, which aren’t really private so much as guttural strings of nonsensical monkey gibberish.

Still, the notion of Ana voyeuristically browsing my Yahoo account doesn’t seem right, does it? Let’s just settle it this way: If I get the radioSHARK next month, all will be forgiven; If I’m subjected to another Christmas of v-neck sweaters and slacks, I’m changing my password on December 26.