Things In His House That Make Me Sad: His Lack of Hand Soap

From Marielena, who just wants a convenient post-loo suds situation: 

No hand soap? Really? Really.

What? Where’s the? How do? How does he? Where’s the damn hand soap?!  

That was my thought process when I went to my guy’s house for the first time. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly: He had a good job, nice shoes, good taste in women (heyo!) and whiskey, but what was up with the no hand soap?! Maybe he just ran out and didn’t have time to get a new bottle? Ew! Dirty!

It’s always strange going home with someone you barely know or are in the process of getting to know. There's a million questions running through my head: Is his apartment gross? Is his cat friendly? Is there a Silence of the Lambs murder pit in the basement? O, the courtship dance! O, the ancient push and pull!  

Not having basic necessities like soap or, god forbid, a fresh looking toothbrush, is just one of those big red flags that screams, “I’m an adult baby!” And, real talk ladies, we all know that dirty paws + the pink = UTIs = NOPE.  

I had to keep reminding myself that he’s cool and nice and that I could do this. I ended up using some of this Dove 4 Menz body wash/shave gel/toothpaste/shampoo/ nonsense to clean my mitts and went back to drinking Laphroaig and watching “Breaking Bad” with him on his couch.  

But you can bet your bottom dollar that I made sure to save the HJ’s for the next time when we were at my place with the full arsenal of C.O. Bigelow at our disposal.