When we settled in together, everything had its place and everyone had their things arranged the way they wanted it. He was my husband and we ought to share a lot of things together but some things couldn’t be shared. We agreed on that. I wasn’t going to tell him about my past relationships and I wasn’t going to share some things I considered as deep secrets.
That much was clear. But there were other things we couldn’t agree on. We didn’t talk about these things because they never did come to mind.
It started with towels.
My towels were mine. His towels were his’. We didn’t have to share. I consider towels as intimate. It touches my skin and goes to deeper places when using them. They were like my panties. Or braziers. Or even my undershirts. These things don’t have to touch other people and also touch me.
My husband didn’t think that way and I didn’t know until one morning I saw him busily wiping his body with my towel. I went around looking for his towel and couldn’t find it. “Where’s your towel that you’re using mine?” “I think I left it in the hall or somewhere last night. It was only when I finished bathing that I realized my towel wasn’t here.” He responded
That was ok.
It happened again. And again. So I had to address it. “Dear, I don’t like sharing towels. Kindly stick to yours and leave mine alone.” He didn’t say a word. Again, I found him using it one evening before bed: “Darling, could you not use my towel? I don’t feel comfortable knowing I’m sharing towels.” Then he snapped, “My towel, my towel, my towel! It’s your towel gold that you don’t want me to touch?” I pretended I didn’t hear him.
I stopped hanging my towels in the bathroom. It’s when you see it that you’ll use it. If it’s not there, it’s not there. From then on, whenever he went to the bath and forgot his towel outside, he would call me and ask me to bring it to him. That was awesome. We were making progress.
One morning, I saw him brushing his teeth. The toothbrush he was using looked like mine. I wasn’t so sure. After he had finished, I went in there to check. My toothbrush had wet bristles. I still wasn’t so sure because I had used it in the morning before he went to brush his teeth. I called him to come and check something; “Dear, there are two toothbrushes here. Which one is yours?” He answered, “I don’t know which is which so I just select one when brushing my teeth.”
I was alarmed!
“You mean you’ve been using just any brush? You don’t mind whether it’s yours or mine?”
“What’s yours is mine. What’s mine is yours. We are one, remember?”
“Your fucking sickness is yours and mine is mine!” (of course, I didn’t say that aloud.)
But how could he take “We are one” this literally?
At first, it was my towel. Now my toothbrush. What next, my panties?
I told him, “Dear, we are one but somewhere we diverge. What’s mine is yours but can we please take out personal pieces of stuff? My toothbrush can’t be your toothbrush. My towel can’t be your towel. Things that touch my skin should be treated as personal stuff. Can we agree on that?”
Some men have a way of taking offense even when offense wasn’t intended. I was calm and even smiling when I put across my concern but my husband found a way to get angry; “Why are you so obsessed with these little things? What’s wrong if I use your toothbrush? Do we not kiss? I even go down on you. Just look at it…down there oooo. Down there, I scrape there with my tongue but somehow, it’s wrong to share toothbrush.”
He then walked off.
At that point on, I knew two things would never happen again;
- He wasn’t going to give me head again. And
- He wasn’t going to kiss me again.
Oooh how I crave these two things!
Because of that, I had to find a proper way to negotiate around the issue, but how do I say it in a way that he wouldn’t be offended?
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I told him, “Dear, I can understand the reason why you don’t mind using my personal stuff. To you, if you love somebody and have promised “till death do us part,” then whichever way the death happens doesn’t matter, even if it has to come through the sharing of a toothbrush. I understand. Come to think of it, it’s even romantic to think that way. Here’s the thing, It’s not easy for me to think that way. My junior sister had gum bleeding every time she brushed her teeth (that is a lie) and that looked very awful so I promised never to share brush. I can’t even get the image of her gum bleeding off my mind and it makes it difficult for me to share things like that with you. Maybe with time, I’ll learn to accept that it’s alright, but for now, kindly pardon me.”
He sat calmly and watched my face keenly as I was talking to him. I knew I was making progress. I knew he was getting my point and I knew he would change for me. He said, “If that’s the case, then let’s keep these things apart. Find a place and keep yours since you don’t want me to use them. With time I will also adjust and stick to my stuff.”
That was it. It was a clean war. Flawless. No blood was shared during the settlement of this issue. Life goes on, or so I thought but something wasn’t the same after that. Five paragraphs ago, I told you what wasn’t going to happen again and indeed, these two things stopped coming. I solved one problem and created two more problems in its place. Several weeks later and after several times of sex without getting a head or a kiss. I was worried.
“Darling, are you still hurt?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Err…you know things have changed a little bit.”
“What has changed, tell me?”
“Errrm…You see, things are quite raw these days. You don’t kiss, you don’t…you don’t…you don’t ‘go there’ again and it’s quite not exciting.”
He squirmed in his seat and put on this devilish grin. He said, “Yeah, I’ve realized that too but you see, my mouth is mine and I decide what to do with it. For now, my mouth is private and personal until further notice.”
“You idiot, I thought we’ve settled that long ago,” I said in my head. I looked at him. He looked back at me. For a while we said nothing. He kept grinning. I told him, “So you’re still holding grudges? You’re punishing me for telling you what’s worrying me?” He kept grinning.
Little did I know what was coming…That ceaseless grin had a storm behind it. A beautiful storm for that matter.
He wouldn’t even give me space to catch my breath. Lovemaking hits differently when done after a ‘fight.’ He asked, “You still want more?” I said, “Your tongue is yours. Please keep it that way. For a while. You can’t come and kill me.”
—Samira, Ghana
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