The (Neat and Orderly) Ramblings of an Obsessive Compulsive: Sharing is Scaring

In a relationship you’re supposed to share everything, right? ‘What’s mine is yours’ and all that? I’m all for this idea, however I believe that there are some things that you should just never share.

I remember the scene well. It was an overcast spring morning and I had popped into the kitchen to make myself and my boyfriend a cup of tea. The kitchen door opened. I turned from the sink to see my boyfriend, in his boxers, brushing his teeth with my toothbrush.

Aw, hell no!

Something inside me snapped. ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ I screamed and pounced on him, snatching the toothbrush from his mouth and sterilising it with the water from the recently boiled kettle. ‘Well, it’s only the same as kissing isn’t it?’ he said, bewildered, in a feeble attempt to justify his actions. No. Just no. Scraping the plaque and removing the old bits of food from your teeth is NOT the same as kissing.

And don’t get me started on sharing food. I absolutely love my food and my dislike of sharing my food isn’t just because I’m a greedy bitch, it’s because it just doesn’t feel right. I mean, if someone has bitten into your Dairy Milk or chewed on your apple before you’ve even taken a bite of it yourself it seems somehow tainted and unappetising. Also, for some reason my mind is always taken back to primary school where there would always be that one kid on the lunch tables who would open their mouth wide and talk when they ate and I imagine that kid coming along, drooling and terrifying, wiping their nose with the back of their hand and reaching for my dinner. Horrific. My boyfriend loves to take a bite out of bits of my food. At first he did it just because he felt like it. Now he does it even more because he knows it annoys me. Indeed, the first time it happened he took a bite out of my hand made chicken salad sandwich. It was so perfect and beautiful until his hand swooped in and snatched it from my plate. I had a lump in my throat as he replaced it, teeth marks in the corner where a big chunk was missing. There was a matching chunk missing from my heart. I was livid. Silently I placed the plate on his lap and went back to the kitchen to make a fresh sandwich. I proceeded to gobble it down there and then before he could get his grubby hands on it!

What’s mine is yours? Just forget it. Sharing is scaring.

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