It wasn’t her fault. When he sent her songs he downloaded on iTunes, he unwittingly supplied his password. The songs weren’t that great really. On their own, they were beautiful numbers. But because her sense of superiority didn’t allow her to appreciate someone else’s taste, she quickly forgot about them. But the entire transaction allowed her to snoop on him. She accidentally entered his username and tried the same password. Well, not really accidentally. But we’ll allow her some pretense of indifference.
His email box opened up an entire secret world to her. She was almost addicted to his email exchanges. There is a certain deliciousness in the banality of others’ conversations. So, he was simultaneously flirting with three women. Each of them guilt ridden. Each of them even more predictable than the other. Each of them grateful for his attention. She giggled when she saw how much of a copy-paste job most of his emails were. He was a thought-robber. He would steal a thought from one conversation, and introduce it most casually in some other conversation with another woman.
His email was what she checked the first thing every day. His simultaneous lives. So to Woman1 he writes that he was really hungry, and had only an apple in his house. To Woman2, he says he’s profusely thankful for the wonderful home cooked meal. All on the same night. Like he had different compartments in his stomach and heart for Woman1 and Woman2. Woman3 was reserved for rants and random childhood memories.
Even more interesting were the reminders from banks. Or saved shopping lists from the grocer’s website. Just an apple? Liar!
She suddenly realizes why her own mother would try to listen in on her phone calls. It had little to do with what the conversation was about. It was out of her boredom with her own life. Or a very urgent sense of curiosity. Or maybe something else altogether.
But she wishes he would realize that someone was prying into his inbox. Everyday, she tells herself that she ought to stop wasting time on the pointlessness of someone else’s life. She after all has her own life’s banality to deal with. If he would only change his password or something. She’s tried dropping a few hints. Like not marking the mails as unread. Or randomly deleting emails. But trust a man who’d give away his password to not realize that somebody was trampling all over his delicate flirtations. Maybe she should just delete his email account. That would take care of everything.