If we’re being honest, we’ve all wondered what was on our husband’s phone. Who is he texting? Does he secretly have a Tinder account? What game is he spending all his time on? In my husband’s case, I expected to find Facebook banter, bookmarked articles, college friend group chats, to-do lists and baby animal videos. But the only way to find out for certain was to just look through my husband’s phone. So, I did.
The first place I took a peek was his photos. I figured scanning for a telltale racy pic was a good place to start. Instead, I found this — me, fast asleep.
When I asked why he didn’t have a cute photo of me dozing off, he said that this was cute. While I saw messy eyebrows, oversize pores, and the pillow line on my forehead, he saw me, his wife — the woman he loves. That lady with the brown roots and the frizz? That, he said, is his "Sleeping Beauty." And there goes my heart, melting away...
He also had a few pictures of the trip he took with his dad to the Math Museum. (He’s a shameless nerd.) Doesn’t sound fun? While they were there, his dad rode a tricycle with square tires — because nothing beats witnessing a grown man use something made for a preschooler. I wasn’t there, but I now have the photographic evidence, thanks to my snooping.
What else was lurking in the image files? Lots and lots of prehistoric creatures. You know how little kids go through a dinosaur phase? My husband’s phase never ended. So it’s hardly shocking that he has picture after picture of dinosaur bones. If there’s a prehistoric skeleton in the area, he can smell it like a shark smells blood in the water.
Next, I went through his apps. There were several gems there, including a baking app — that he actually uses. My husband has such a sweet tooth that he will bake desserts for himself.Sure, he’ll also make sugary treats for friends and family, but that’s mainly an excuse for him to pig out on his favorite sweets the moment he gets his own plate. Now, he has an app that makes it easier for him to do just that. The only lust I’ve uncovered is for cake and lemon bars.
I dove next into his notes. In addition to pages of "to do" lists was one marked "Gaga." Nope, he’s not baby talking. He wanted to drive by his grandmother’s childhood home, take a photo, and show her what the house looks like today. And "Gaga," well, that’s "Grandma" in toddler-speak. I guess the "other woman" is in her 80s.
My husband doesn’t text much, and he’s had the same phone for a million years. So I wasn’t exactly stunned to find a four-year-old text about buying a piece of costume jewelry for a pretty lady friend. That said, it still stung because it reminded me of a period that I’m ashamed to admit out loud.
I used to be jealous of this girl, and — if we’re honest here — all his female friends because I considered them competition. Fortunately, maturity helped me realize that it was perfectly healthy for him to have platonic female friends. I trust him, and he trusts me.
And then I found an even more shocking text: Nope, not about a woman but about Pokémon Go. You have to understand that my geeky guy is such an original gamer that he won’t play Pokémon Go. He only plays the Pokémon games that came out when we were kids because he doesn’t like the new versions. So it would be like a sports fan who feels that tennis is too wimpy texting about the U.S. Open.
I guess it’s not totally surprising to read him talking about the craze inspiring criminal activity then. He probably typed this text with glee. No matter how smart and mature our guys are, they will still always be guys.
When it comes to games, the only one I found on his phone is — nerd alert — the Font Game. My hubby is a very talented motion graphics designer. OK, I’m bragging, but he needs eagle eyes for typography in his line of work. So instead of playing "Candy Crush" when he’s bored, he brushes up on his serifs and sans serifs. I never knew this app even existed, yet it explains so much, like how he’ll interrupt our conversation to point out the font on a sign as if we’ve just stumbled across a unicorn. Is that a mythical beast? No, honey, it’s just Helvetica.
Exploring the dark, deep underbelly of my husband’s phone ended up being far less painful than I expected. (Full disclosure: I asked first.) It wasn’t so dark or so deep. I actually found more reasons to adore him — and had a good gut check.
Chances are that when we feel the need to pore over our husbands’ phones, it’s because there’s an underlying issue that’s eating away at us. Instead of fretting and obsessing, we should discuss what’s actually bothering us and come up with a solution like real adults. The moment we go through his phone without asking is the moment we break the trust in our relationship. Communication keeps us honest and, frankly, happier in the end.
From: Good Housekeeping