I’m about to admit something that I’m not even a little bit proud of: I’ve been going through my boyfriend’s phone and reading his text messages. And before everyone gets all judgmental on my paranoid ass, I’m sure that more than half of you can admit to doing the same exact thing at least once, if not on a regular basis.

The thing is, I’ve recently realized that completely disregarding my boyfriend’s trust and going through his phone like a crazy woman isn’t helping me feel any better about anything. I used to think it would soothe my panicked nerves, that it would allow me to trust him. But due to my most recent experience with snooping, I’ve discovered that it’s actually probably one of the most terrible ideas I’ve ever had. (Tuffy Luv agrees!)

The first time I did it, it was on my long-term high school boyfriend. I knew he had a lot of girl friends, and I also knew that he was good-looking with a naturally flirty personality. All three combined made my insecure, 15-year-old self scared to death. After a few months, I had to know who he was constantly texting or calling, and I went through his phone. It started with just his most recent calls, but then it turned into reading all of his inbox and all of his sent messages – even the innocent ones he sent to his mom just in case they had some kind of clue to something more sinister. Eventually, I figured out his passwords, and I was regularly checking his email, his Myspace, his AIM, and even his Facebook – basically, I was addicted.

At first, I kept it quiet – but he eventually caught on. The last few years of our relationship consisted of me grabbing his phone from him every time he got a message, and him deleting every single thing sent to him. It was not a healthy situation. When we broke up, I promised myself that I would never disrespect someone’s privacy like that again, unless the situation really and truly called for it.

I kept that promise until last month.

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One of the ways you can date a movie is by observing the telephone usage of the characters.  For instance, how many chick flicks have you seen where Mom answers the phone and it’s, swoon!, Bobby from the football game calling to speak with Megan.  Does Meg play hard to get and pretend like she’s not home?  Will Mom jot down a message and stick it to the fridge?  Maybe Megan grabs the phone up in her room and excitedly twirls the cord around her finger as she accepts Bobby’s invitation to dinner.

In every dorm room and apartment I’ve shared with friends, I’ve wanted to get a communal landline and implement the message corkboard.  Of course I never voiced my desires, but it all seemed so…quaint.  In my head I pictured us all going out to the bar on Friday night and waking up Saturday afternoon to a barrage of post-its sporting guys’ names and numbers.  Maybe we’d even have a color-coded system.  Red for hottie, blue nottie, pink for potentially gay.

In reality, Saturday afternoons were spent on the couch watching Housewives marathons and being jarred out of a trance as our cell phones vibrated and beeped.  Todd says: “Nice 2 meet U last nite.  Going out agn?”  Mark says: “Wut up?”

I’ve been there, and I’d bet ten dollar-beers that you’ve been there, too.  The sad part is, we’ll respond, albeit halfheartedly, knowing exactly what they’re getting at.  “Going out again?” is code for “Wanna make out tonight if we happen to be wasted at the same place at the same time?” and a seemingly innocent “What’s up?” is the product of a moronic mind who has nothing more interesting to say to the goddess of a woman he met over Long Islands. Read More »

Your boyfriend is in the shower and you venture over to his computer to check your Facebook only to find that he is already logged in.  Usually you would just log him out (or so you say) but this time, you can’t help but notice he has been “poked” by an ex-girlfriend.  You freeze.  You consider your options: sign out and go about your business, or sort through all of his inbox messages to see if there is any other incriminating evidence.  His buzzing Blackberry a foot away only fuels your temptation farther.

To snoop or not to snoop?  It is the question we have all been faced with.

Obviously, if asked whether we “spy” on our significant others, we hastily reject the notion because clearly we’re not one of those “psycho girlfriends.”  But admit it, you’re guilty on at least one account.  However, if you had probable cause, and your unlawful search and seizure did lead you to evidence unraveling your case, you may be able to use the self-defense plea. (OMG, I need to stop watching Law and Order marathons…)

We all know there are different levels of snooping. Reading text messages while pretending to play Brickbreaker on his phone is not as punishable as hacking into his Facebook daily.  And neither pale in comparison to installing spyware on his computer that will track his activity for you to later sort through.

So where is the line drawn? Is some level of snooping OK or should it be completely off-limits?  Read More »

[It's pretty obvious that the average CollegeCandy reader has some very strong opinions. Opinions that she likes to share with everyone on the site. We love a strong woman (unless she happens to be charging at us with her fists raised), so we thought we'd give her a real forum to discuss her thoughts, feelings, and perspectives. Every Friday I'll be featuring a hot topic (like chivalry!) and leaving it up to you, the readers, to duke it out. So, read it and get your debate on in the comments section below!]

Sexting always seemed like a no brainer to me – don’t send naked pictures of yourself out into the world unless you want everybody to see them (see the smarts a college education buys!) – but it seems like the line has gotten blurrier and blurrier and now I’m not sure what to think.

Ok, let’s start with the obvious. We have all learned (from those drunken Facebook photos) that once something is out there, you can never really take it back, and sexting has the same issues. Even if it’s just words and not pics of your naughty bits, the last thing you want is for your BF’s pals to get hold of his phone and see (or god forbid, send) that stuff. Not to mention the whole, “what happens if you two break up and he’s still got all that stuff” issue. Read More »

It’s Thursday night, 8:00 PM. Most kids on my campus are pre-gaming in their rooms watching the new episode of The Office, but I am sitting half-comatose in a giant lecture hall, taking notes on Neo-freudians. It’s my own fault for picking such an unfortunately scheduled class, but I still silently curse my Ben Stein-clone of a professor as my phone vibrates for the tenth time since class started. Expecting another “where are u? we’re drinking at Kim’s apt, come!!” text, I glance down at my phone, instead seeing a blinking message: CANNOT RECEIVE MESSAGE. MEMORY FULL.

Frantically, I scroll through my texts, looking for one to delete. I keep scrolling… and scrolling… and then I’m at the end of the list, unable to delete even one. It’s weird, but there are just some texts I can’t bring myself to get rid of. And I know I’m not the only one. Read More »

This month’s issue of Cosmo may just take the award for most insightful published information yet. (Where’s that sarcastic font when we need it most?)

First we learn what kind of behavior is too freaky to fix on a man… such as someone who Tweets every time you switch positions in bed. If you didn’t know that before reading Cosmo, then your behavior is probably too freaky to fix, too.

Then we move on to several quizzes, in which we learn that we will be rich one day if we answer yes to having played competitive sports or were on the debate team in high school. Somehow I have a feeling Bill Gates was involved in neither and look at him now.

This month’s Cosmo also teaches readers how to flirt with anyone and everyone, including the dry cleaner. Because that tiny little man who cleans the stains off of my bedding is exactly who I want to take home to momma….

Oh, and real quickly: when did horoscopes start mentioning text messages and what flavor lube I’ll be interested in this month? Does that change by the month? What happened to good old advice on what to do when my friend gets mad at me on the 8^th? And why does Carrie Underwood’s hair look so greasy that it appears she hasn’t washed it in months? Gross.

But even with all of that priceless information and advice, the March issue gets even better: What his Texts Really Mean. I know, it sounds groundbreaking, right? Like the kind of information that could earn those Cosmo girls a Nobel Prize. I mean, we’ve all wondered what the hell he was trying to say and now Cosmo is going to break it all down for us and help us respond!

Well, that was the intention anyway…. Read More »

Texting a breakup? Not OK.

We live, breathe and flirt in a world of high-tech, digital romance. And I can’t say with a straight face that I am not a user and abuser of texting/IMing/Facebook chatting when it comes to communicating with members of the opposite sex. But there are some instances where no Tweet can do justice to a face-to-face interaction when you’re wheeling and dealing in the game of love. Talk about bad romance.

The Break Up:
Remember when Berger dumped Carrie via Post-it note on Sex and the City? Well that sucked. But at least he made the effort to find a pen and paper. I’d take a post-it over a break-up text message any day. In my opinion, it is never OK to end relations via a short message service. Since when is a break-up considered a short message? Think about it. (Exception: You’ve only been dating for a week, and he’s already named your unborn child. Take the quickest possible escape route available. NOW.)

TMI on the Internet:
Making plans on each other’s Facebook walls. Really? Did you lose their number? No one wants to read this: “Hey babe, why don’t you come over around 7:30. We’ll watch a movie or something… but we probably won’t see very much. LOL! Ps. my roommate’s in the library for the night… bring condoms! You know my favorite kind.” All of your mutual friends are currently puking on their Newsfeeds right now, and so is your new-to-Facebook and recently friend-request-accepted mother. Read More »

There’s a great many things to do and places to see in this world of ours.  As humans, our lives are pretty short (and if you party like I do, it’s probably going to be even shorter).  So we have to prioritize!  We have brains for a reason and that reason is…reasoning (well, at least some of us use them for that purpose: see comment about partying above).  Let me be your voice of reason as I show you all the things you should be doing right here, right now.

I love texting.  It is perhaps my favorite invention next to the internet (how can that not be everyone’s favorite invention??).  My love has gotten to the point where I send out about a hundred text messages a day, but only make phone calls every couple of days.  That got me thinking…what happened to my voice?

There are articles peppered all over the web about the many “dangers” of excessive text messaging.  After dismissing most of these as ridiculous and the product of the hypochondriac generation, I began to see some truth.  Yes, my thumbs do hurt sometimes.  Hours of clutching my phone, waiting for the slightest vibration (and validation that the guy from last weekend actually wants to see me again) exhausts me mentally and physically.  And I can even get annoyed by my own text message alert sound.  Perhaps I should take a step away from my phone and get a couple breaths of fresh air.

Here are some reasons why you should, too! Read More »

This week was pretty rad, what with so much geek flying all over the place.  The new Harry Potter movie is out and I’m extremely excited (I may not be the only one).  I’m almost to the point where I want to don a cape, grab a wand and do my best English accent (best = horrific).  Instead of going out to buy a brand new cape, I’ll stick with what I have in my closet…and that’s leggings.  Luckily, they go with everything.  Even capes.

Crocs, however, go with nothing and I’m happy to see they’re dying a quick death.  What will we do, now that Crocs are dying and we have space in our closet for more fabulous accessories?  Well, get a vagina wig, of course!  Those things are incredible.  I’m even considering getting one specially made (complete with sequins and bright pink faux fur) for the College Candy party later this month.  We’ll see…

As excited as I am about the fabulousness that will be the College Candy party, I’m nervous about bringing a date.  Every time I start seeing a guy, I get all tangled up in cryptic text messages.  And that stupid (GLORIOUS) book/movie, He’s Just Not That Into You, has apparently ruined me for life, so even if I had hope before, I’ll talk myself out of it now.  Maybe some well-timed Harry Potter pick-up lines can save me!  Or, in the case of Jessica Simpson, maybe not.

Maybe I should just give up sex entirely and take a platonic guy bestie.  Then I can use him as a wing man/drink server.  You never know when a guy friend can turn into a boyfriend.  Either way, I’ll have a good time!

Anyone here remember the 70′s? No, of course not – we weren’t even a blip on mom and dad’s radar yet.  But they were there practicing free love and dabbling in drugs and all the other dangerous things they tell us about to keep us on the straight-and-narrow.

The most dangerous thing our generation is doing? Texting, apparently.

The New York Times recently wrote an article (published in their ‘health’ section, no less) about the dangers of texting.  The sources scattered throughout the article wail about their teenage son or daughter sending thousands of texts per month (uh…more like per week) and the drastic effects it has on their poor baby’s health.

Seriously, parents and teachers?  You’re worried about excessive texting rather than say, drunk driving or hard drug use?  I mean, a case of sore thumbs can certainly ruin your day, but I’m pretty sure huffing paint thinner is gonna at least eff up your week.

The article cites problems such as anxiety, distraction in school, failing grades (probably a result of the distraction, I’m guessing), repetitive stress injury, and sleep deprivation.  Um, this may just be me, but doesn’t that sound like a normal high school or college student?  Hell, even before I had texting on my phone (yes, I was a late texting bloomer), I had a fair few of those ‘symptoms’ (especially around finals week).

Let’s get serious, New York Times.  Why don’t we set the texting ‘issue’ aside and maybe focus on something else (anything else)?  Besides, in the time it took me to read your ridiculous article, I could have sent 17 text messages to my friends looking for drugs or discussing last night’s nooky. Clearly, our generation has larger issues.