And I scratch yours

The Husband has a condition I like to refer to as IBS. No, it has nothing to do with his bowels, that is a whole other post titled The Library. The IBS I am referring to is his constantly itchy back, so bad it has been now titled Itchy Back Syndrome. Not long after we started dating he looked at me with his gorgeous eyes the color of the Atlantic and said, “Hey You, will you do me a favor?”

Expecting some huge ordeal I hesitantly replied “um, Maybe?”

“Will you scratch my back for me?”

Relieved that is all he wanted, I magnanimously agreed. He thanked me so profusely afterwards that you would think that I gave him my right kidney (I have no idea why the right, but it just seems like a bigger deal than giving your left. Poor left. Just another example of the rampant leftism in our society…..anyway what was I talking about? Oh yes, The Husband’s back.) Ever since then he has asked me at least every couple of days to give his back a good ‘ole scratching. He has a very nice back, it is not hairy or anything. There are no pimples or lesions of any sort, but I just don’t really like to do it.

There have been times when I turn around at a strange noise to see The Husband rubbing his dorsal up and down the corner of our wall like that bear (the Sun Bear?) at the zoo that looks like he is waving. I am vehemently opposed to this method for fear of having to repaint the wall (it is a very tricky corner, tan on one side and grass green on the other—it would be a real pain in the ass to try to repaint). Basically I think he should just deal with it. He is so wonderful in 98% of the ways a woman could want that I just let this one go. Until Christmas that is. In his stocking at his Mom and Dad’s house he had an honest to God bamboo back scratcher. I thought it was a joke, but he was so excited about it, even more so than for the stainless steel trashcan, my favorite gift from Santa. He got it home, stashed it by his side of the bed and uses that friggin’ thing every single night.

You would think that I would be relieved that he no longer asks me with those puppy dog eyes to do it for him, but it does not override the ick factor I get watching him do this! He uses first one arm and then the other and stretches his arm in all sorts of weird positions with his armpit hair sticking out all crazy like. My brain says at least he is not scratching that special place that his panties cover. Maybe I would like the back scratcher better if I Bedazzled it.

Other than the obvious solution of, “Hey You! Get the hell over it!” What should I do dear Internet? Does your The Husband or The Significant Other have itches that bother you?

Filed under Boy is my face red, The Husband | Comments (2)