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The Names You Google When No One is Looking

Posted Jul 28 2008 8:14pm
Admittedly, I am not a snoop by nature. I'm pretty much an open book; in fact I could safely say that nearly 80% of my friends have seen my beaver or breasts. Don't be alarmed, I haven't pitched in the books and started to grease poles with my crotch for a living (not that I have anything against that mind you - Please, grind away my pretties!) Instead, I have a habit of running from shower to bedroom via thelounge room, to which my awkward guests are not left with much imagination, (even though I attempt to cover up my lady bits with my 'hand bikinis'.) It's all an honest display of flesh, I'm really just a lazy girl, more into 'convenience nudity', than strutting around an island wearing only a 'string of pearls and a smile' variety of nudist.

I prefer to type nude (oh yeah baby can you see you me now baby) I certainly don't sleep nude. I already get teased for sleeping with my mouth wiiiiiide open as it is ( I believe the term he used was "agape") growing up I was subjected to many night-time clandestine photo op's, my father snapping me asleep in my jim jams, looking all sweet and innocent until your eyes saw my face, more so my mouth wide open and slackjawed like a retarded cod. Perhaps I have a left over fear from childhood that someone is going spring open the door, in the middle of the night and snap me in all my glory, so as my mother once said "you can see what she had for breakfast"

I'm sure that I'm not the only female who fears "chucking a spread" and having your wanton womanly secrets laid out like a holiday resortsmorgasbordfor whoever finds you. If I ever dared to 'nude it up' one night, I'm paranoid the other half would wake up in the middle of the night and be confronted by my giant white bum , shining and pert (well, it is a fantasy) in the moonlight. To be safe and to protect the eyes of innocents, I sleep in a singlet and some boxers (I'm a firm believer that girlfriends should always abstain from constantly wearing thosecartoonflanneledpyjamas, a guaranteed passion killer - I'm being brutally honest here - no red blooded lover wants to go down on you and make you moan by saying dirty, dirty things whenTweetyBird and Friends are watching.)

I am becoming moreexhibitionisticby nature (I attribute it to the growing sensation of "I'm too old for them to care about it, so why should I?") I still don't brazenly try clothes on in the middle of the store like my younger, more foxier friends, many of them now shun the change rooms (they are so 2005!)when the fashion bug bites whilst on a midweeklunch break. My "Inner Nana" insists that I wait in line for a change room, despairing the entire 30mins it takesto try on a pair of pants (that I don't even want, I just saw them on a sale and thought well these could probably match the top I bought yesterday, that I also didn't want .) I curse my modesty then.

I promise you that I have never read my sister's diary (she hides it too well) nor have I ever bought a telescope under the guise of "astronomy" in order to scanhighriseunits foramouroushoneymooners who are fucking liek crazy hyienas in front of curtain less bay windows at night. I've never looked at them (even though I could've sworn that they wanted people to).

In this blog, I said I was going to reveal things about myself and basically write about grittier things than what I have in the past. Finally, I've met the love of my life, so I don't have to worry about impressing boys at discos anymore (phew) and can instead use my experiences and blog space for the greater good. I will reclaim this blog and hand down whisps of wisdom to help men and women all over the world not make similar mistakes that I did or encourage them to do the brilliant things that I found changed my life from the gutter to the stars, where I live this very day. You get all of this for Nic - absolutely free! But you have to put up with me.. for you see..

I have some controversial views on snooping. Basically, I don't condone mindless, nosy and pointless prying into other people's business that has nothing to do with your own life. I think privacy should be respected in a relationship, just because you share a bed, do not assume that you must share every living thought with that person as well. Let the mystery happen, is my motto.

Besides, having too much in common can get old; persue different ideas, debate and alternate points of views keep a conversation fresh and useful. I love my man with all that I have and the trust we have built is pretty much a given now. We don't take it for granted, in contrary, we are very aware that we have a pure trust, that no one has tainted our trust and hurt each other, and we tend to be rather in awe of our innocent little trust, in this jaded decade of everything going to hell. We work on keeping it pure.

However, my twenties were a different story. If my twenties had a theme it would be "uncertainty". In order to find my "soul connection" i had to pilf through a lot (Ok nine, but who's counting!) of chaf to get the wheat. So this post is for those women who are similar bewildered, who have given years to a guy but suspects (when she is at home in a lonely, cold bed and wondering when did it actually start ) is having an affair. If you haven't been cheated on (you might not even know) then good for you, honey and flowers and off you go, have a nice day. For the rest of you jaded souls, read on...

Out of all the terribly gut wrenching methods I have witnessed women reduced to when trying to "out" a cheating spouse, I am suprised how little is made of searching Facebook, dating sites and my personal, surefire way to find out the hard truth - reading his Instant messenger chat log is vitalreconoissanceif you suspect your boyfriend's conversations with that cute, giggly secretary from his work have gone into x rated territory, or worse if you can feel it in your waters (trust me guys, women just know if your double humping on their time, we have an inbuilt radar for it, that is switched on when we leave the womb) that the one you love dearly is having an e-ffair. I simply think a little snooping is in order to preserve that little bit of sanity you have left, information is power my darlings and the sooner you imprint that onto your forehead the better.If your intuition is kicking you in the guts every time he calls from the office "to do some extra work" then you MUST take things into your own hands. I think if trust can be so easily voilated - then what's a pesky little thing like privacy gotta matter in times like these? But the key, to any wanna be Columbo's out there, is to throw the line in the water ..let the fish come to you.

Most instant messengers have a feature that records logs of conversations (and any dude worth his ecybering ass will have this turned off) so all you need to do is tick the box back on and send the logs to a file that is also locked with a password. Let a good week pass, as you need a lot of evidence to accumulate a denial free disclosure. Msn Plus have this built in feature and you just need to enable the options to log all the chats. Even if his msn settings are set by him, it will still dutifully record the whole tawdry conversationlist in action. Odds are, if he is cheating with you with someone not on his messenger, then he is also cheating on them. They have no loyalties - remember. Use this to your advantage honey.

After a week has passed, make sure you pour yourself a stiff drink and remember that once you are dealing with a confirmed cheater that you have (or pretend to have) as a relationship will change forever, things will never be the same again. No matter how much you bash him over the head with it on Oprah, you will never, ever forget. We all watched Cheaters, so we know that after reading just a few transcripts, one of two things will happen.

The Best Case Scenario

You will see that your man is boring really, a bit of a flirt (name me a guy who doesn't want girls to think he is good looking and virile) but it's all rather harmless. You might slit your eyes a few times, but generally speaking, your guy knows where his bread is buttered and he stays well behind the line. Right now you are feeling a little stupid. You'll probably feel bad that you didn't trust him and try not to blurt out what you did next time you take an E together in the back of a smoky, cramped nightclub. No one gets really hurt. You must say to yourself - "Ok enough with the paranoia bitch!" and get your drink on. Nothing puts the idea of cheating on you into a guy's mindmorethan you constantly accusing him of doing it. Believe me, men are logic and simple and if he thinks you have already blamed him for it, he thinks its almost commonsense to go through with it. The same way that you can sit down a smoker and show them pictures of black lungs and beacons full of tar and the next thing they know, they are jonesing for a cigarette. Don't ask me why - we humans are pretty fucked up sometimes.

My antidote for you is that instead of constantly putting ideas in his head, get him thinking about YOU and how fabulous you are compared to OTHER insecure and clingy girls. If he dotes on you and you only have to ask your friends what they really think, if it's all good news then reward him with lots of what I call "Dirty Girl Sex". Tequila is brilliant for this, you will do the wildest contortions you have ever achieved with the added bonus of memory loss the next day, so you vaguely remember falling off the toilet and falling asleep there but you don't remember why he is wearing a strap on. Ahh memories. Just kidding Mum.

The Worst Case Scenario

However, if like me, your hand is shaking on the mouse and your eyes are superglued to the screen, youmustdrag yourself away from the screen immediately and breathe. Have a shot of your drink and call a friend. Do not call "Him". If you call "Him" it will be ON for all and sundry and you will not even read the entire amount of evidence because you are already packing your bags and not thinking about the whether this is the right mind to be making such a decision.

If you smoke, have a smoke. Even if you're not allowed to smoke in the house, light two of the bastards. Ignore the phone ringing unless it's your girlfriend asking if it was Bacardi or Gin you wanted - (don't take the Gin, it's the worst spirit to have when you feel crazy head) Make back up copies and email them to yourself. Avoid the urge to email "HER". Right now, that isn't going to help. Send off a brief email to him explaining that you have to go and be there for a friend who just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her, and don't tell him who, where and when you will be back. You need time, you need distance. You need to be respected again.

Keeping the logs is not a permanent thing, it is more to prevent you from falling for his feeble excuses, "it was just me being stupid, I wanted attention and Slovenjka made me feel like a stud" Right now, you don't HAVE to listen to him. You just have to listen to yourself. Show your friend the emails if you need moral support, beware that she will never have time for him again (and it makes for many awkward sunday barbeques) Resist the urge to send dramatic texts..

I know... about her.

No, you want to be calm, rational and satisfied. Lean on your friends and let them take care of you. Don't get snot blowing drunk either, it's a depressant so just have enough to get a grip and right now, put the logs away until you have got over the shock. Maybe send them to a trusted friend, and ask them not to give them to you until a week later.

This scenario sounds surreal, but I've seen it work out bad and good. You would be horrified to know just how many guys are flirtatious online, but it's the meeting up and fucking around that gets under my collar. The hardest part for some, is letting the trap work, and waiting for the results to accumulate. No hidden peeks, it will blow the lid straight off.

I've witnessed so many enraged women blow apart a carefully executed snooping mission too early, so the cheating spouse not only had little punishment but also knew where the weakness originated from and would sidestep it in future to go about his infidelities. Apparently that's why 58% of people don't read diaries (no one that I know though) ,as they know that by learning other people's secrets, you have to be able to keep it a secret from the person it's about. And where's the fun in that? A lot of dudes prefer to turn a blind eye to the fact that their girlfriend has been furiously masturbating whilst thinking about her yoga teacher - what I don't know, doesn't hurt me. Good logic, from a man. Women, on the other hand, well.. we want to know everything. Then, the proverbial shit hits the fan..and god help you, you cheating son of a bitch!

The reason that I blogged this post is because recently I was on a friends computer and accidently came across some personal revelations of character. I was waiting for my friend to get dressed and I was bored waiting after ten minutes of polite yet obligatory chat with the creepy ginger haired flat mate. When there was a break in conversation, I lept into the office and prayed that the boring flatmate wouldn't follow. Like a beacon of entertainment, the familiar glow of the Internet was in front of me, so I do what any self-respecting narcissist does and googled my name. As usual, nothing showed up that I didn't know of before. No one had created awikipediaentry to celebrate myfabulousity- yet. However.. what Ididnotice was that when I typed my name in the field, suggestions of text also came up. As in, this person'sgooglecache history was suggesting that instead of my name, perhaps I wanted to really search"really wet pussies?"

Indeed I don't mind a really wet pussy but I was wondering what other search terms lay just beyond my intrepidly typed letter.

Gobsmacked a little, Ileantback in my chair, my mind taking in this privatecatolgue- every letter held a differentsuprise-"Lesbians Getting It On" and "Creampie Virgins" and then left off field "How to Speedread"(Naked? I thought wickedly) Like I was in one of those FBI Hacker movies, I delved deeper into the cache, giggling a little loudly at times. Walking out to the car, I felt oddly estranged from my very law abiding, vanilla and modest to almost being a prude girlfriend. That horny fox! She let a whole week go past before she revealed that I was on her flatmates computer, not hers (which was in the shop). I didn't know whether to be relieved or slightly dissapointed to be honest! I've used the old Google trap a few times to get a quick take on a boyfriend, I realised the whole alphabet was a veritablesmorgasboardof secrets, I wasautocapturinga link right into thepyscheof the owner. Dear me, I typed in A (got to start at the top) and dear me - clear your cache I warn you fellas before your porn trawling phrases are revealed with merciless precision or worse still, your currentgirfriendof now discovers you have googled your first love fromhighschool(and all feeble guesswork variations of the spelling too), you know 'the one, that totally was totally mental and the worst lay of his life" the same girl he insisted that he never thought about, even though you said you could understand if he did. Well, this guy's google said a very different story, it was pretty funny in a sad, pathetic kind of way. It's so rare that guys ever let you into their mind on what they really are interested in, and Google seems like the magic wish fairy for some - you want "naked dwarfs jellyfighting festival" then that's what you will get. Life doesn't even deliver half as good as Google.

So be careful of the cyber trail you leave, you might be an upstanding citizen by day but Ha Ha, I think your Google tells another story.

My favorite letter is S - almost anyone has "sexy mermaids in threesome" don't they? But before you do that I recommend you have a peek at your own savedgooglesearches and have a good hard look at yourself before you hit delete!?

For the curious; I'm a porn obsessed, dwarf loving, blogging and you tube striptease artist who has a penchant for handmade body lotions, kim kardashian porn vid, thailand boob jobs whilst playing on my modifiedxboxconsoles with the best vibrator to hit the g spot with one hand and cooking italian reciepes for my micro mini puppies and garden gnomes in the other.

The Daily Dare ;

Feel free to post your google searches in the comments, I promise I won't tell.

That's all I have for you today.



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