To Pube or Not to Pube...

How many of us have significant others, whether they be spouses, boyfriends, girlfriends, fiances, whatever, who do things that leave us with our mouths hanging wide open in horrified shock? I'll go out on a limb here and say everyone. It's a fact of life. In fact you cannot share your life with another human being and not find yourself in that dumbfounded state at least once while you watch your beloved do something that leaves you without words.

I'm not talking about drinking out of the milk container or forgetting to flush the toilet. I'm not even talking about putting a red stocking in with your tightie whities or putting your delicates in the washer on permanent press. 

No, I'm talking about the disgusting stuff. Those vile personal habits that ensure a gross out of epic proportions. The ones that really violate the boundary between amusing and "Ewww!"

Which brings me back around to my significant other's recent transgression. My dear, loving husband of thirteen years who still acts like a high school boy bent on grossing out his latest crush. And succeeding. 

Three days ago as I'm blow drying my hair after a shower, he asks me how his hair looks. Now, it's been ten years or more since that man has had enough hair on his head to even consider the need for styling. But I wasn't thinking about that when I turned around to find him running my hair brush through the hair growing in the general vicinity of his groin.

Unlike some people, I'm perfectly willing to admit that I have a few hangups. I'm a little bit on the OCD side though I don't think I'd go so far as to claim a Type A personality. For the most part I'm fairly easy to get along with. I don't like clutter, (who really does?) I constantly redecorate, re-accessorize, and rearrange my space, and I have a serious vendetta against germs.

Now I'm not a germaphobe. I'm really not. I do not carry a hip holster full of antibacterial gel. I don't wash my hands after every possible bit of contact with the outside world. And I certainly don't wear a mask. I'm a chronic horse lover! There are tons of germs in a barn and there is most certainly more than 'just dirt' on my boots at the end of the day.

But barn germs aren't people germs. Most especially they aren't the type of personal hygiene germs that drive me insane. Which brings me back to the violation of my hairbrush.

I was outraged. What woman would not have been outraged? The man was using my hairbrush to comb his pubes. And I don't know. Maybe I overreacted when I threw the offended hairbrush in the garbage amid a whole page worth of angry dialog aimed in his direction. But I didn't want to imagine brushing my hair and tangling his short curlies in with my long straighties. There is just something so wrong about that visual picture. 

The bottom line is that he has now officially declared my reaction to be an overreaction. And considering some of my personal hangups, maybe it was. So help me out here. Tell me if you think I was overreacting. Is there any coming back from a hairbrush that was once used on pubes? And whether or not you think I was out of line, I'm sure you've got a tale to tell about someone who stepped over the line in your life.