My Cell Phone, Your Cell Phone

 

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When my cell phone rings, I ask my husband to answer it for me.  When a text message pops us, I ask him who it is.  He has my password and can scan his fingerprint into my phone whenever he pleases.  My cell phone is an open book to him, as it should be.  I am his wife.

When his cell phone rings, I tell him who it is.  When he has a text message,  I tell him who it’s from.  I have his password and my picture is his lock screen and homescreen background.  His cell phone is an open book to me, as it should be.  He is my husband.

I went through his phone.  Once. A long time ago. When we first started dating.  I didn’t find anything.  I haven’t looked since.

He went through my phone.  Once. After I had the baby.  He didn’t find anything.  He hasn’t looked since.

Either way, the one thing that I know for sure is that our relationship would not be able to thrive if I was hiding my phone from him or vice versa.  It would also be doomed to failure if I felt the need to look through his phone for “dirt” all of the time.  I mean, what kind of relationship is that?

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