All I wanted was a little privacy after my significant other moved in. Who knew that setting up my computer, and I stress my computer, with administrative rights would result in a legal battle.

You see I lived for many years by myself, mainly because I like myself, better than most of the people I know. But time and that primal urge for a mate finally caught up with me, or maybe it was the sex, who really knows. Any way, shortly after her much heralded arrival at my house, and I stress my house, there was a noticeable loss of privacy. Most of my privacy, who am I kidding, all of my privacy went out the door with my best Ginger Lynn adult dvd. The sacrifice I must endure for someone to occasionally remind me that I am a pig. Oh well, such is life. I guess?

After a few weeks it was clear to me that there was no section of my life left unscrutinized. Some how my bank account and retirement statements, managed to be ‘accidentally opened’, so she knows how much money I have now, and how much she will have when I die. Then there was what I can only imagine was a four day phone call with my mother. No childhood joy or embarrassment is unknown to her now. Who knows, what feminine wiles, she used on my best friend to get him to talk. The result was the same, I lay naked before her, with no sense of anything being strictly mine ever again.

I had heard of cell phone inquisitions from my friends, but I had no ideal how rough one could be. Not only did she know that certain numbers were not those of my friends or acquaintances. But she had taken it upon herself to call the numbers and interrogate the person on the other end of the line. If there happened to be a woman on other end of the line, all I can say is. I pity the fool, I pity the fool.

All I wanted was a little privacy. So I set up my computer with administrative rights, logon names and passwords. Also I changed my file system to a ntfs setup. My thinking, flawed as it was, that I could encrypt and password protect certain files for my eyes only. I even went so far as to make some files visible only to me, you techno geeks no what I mean. For the first time in weeks I was feeling independent, and dare I say it ‘manly’. How short lived was that feeling, how could she have known. She is not computer literate, or so I thought. Her question came at me like a statement, “What are you hiding on your computer?” The words ‘from me’, were thoroughly implied in her tone and clearly inferred by me. If I had been more practiced, in male female nuance speak, I would not have needed the ACLU.

My bold proclamation of, “Just because you are living here now, does not mean I can’t have a little privacy.” Fell silently on female ears. Little did I know that women acquire squatters rights on everything you own, including the family jewels, several seconds after the first time you say ‘yes dear’ in that hang dog fashion. I was in need of a greater learning curve, or so I thought. What I really needed was a good defense attorney.

No sooner than I had finished my proclamation, a process server served me with papers. Apparently I had 24 hrs to fully disclose and produce all my hidden files. Could Ken Star not be far behind? Under penalty of a sexual drought, which would result in a metaphorical Lorena Bobbitt type situation. I would be forced to comply, or become the master of my domain once again. It was at this point, I was glad I was a regular contributor to the ACLU. With one call, my savior would file his briefs. God knows I don’t have any of my own anymore. I have nothing for them to contain. My butt has been thoroughly chewed off, and I wish people would stop saying eunuch as if it was a bad thing.

Even with the best lawyers and the constitution on my side. All I could manage in the face of the female nesting syndrome was a compromise. If I apologize for my piggish behavior, state for the record that what is mine is hers, and oh yes-set a date for marriage within the year. I would be granted a reprieve for all offenses, and given two hours to delete my files or fully disclose them. Where as I feel relieved at the moment. There is a sense that as the wedding date approaches, the leash is getting shorter and shorter. Or is that a noose getting tighter and tighter. With my luck it is both.

By B. Bell

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