Her Double Standard of Cleanliness

Summary

My wife was a severe germaphobe.

To even hold her hand, I had to endure a full surgical scrub. I would stand at the sink, brushing my palms and the backs of my hands until the skin was raw and glowing red, all just to earn sixty seconds of physical contact.

If I wanted a kiss, I had to brush my teeth ten times before my lips could even brush against hers.

Sharing a bed was an entirely different ordeal. I had to soak myself in medical-grade disinfectant, completely sanitizing my body, before I was allowed to pull back the covers.