I couldn’t stand dirty Tom

I read about the supposed filth in the apartment of a city socialite with amusement. It reminded me about one of those bad days one goes against rules and just leaves all as is, especially after a long night. Whether that poor hygiene is synonymous with her daily life or not, I cannot confirm. I have, however, had my own share of relationships and hygiene, right from the neatness freaks( story for another day) to the dirty losers.

This week’s story drives me to flash back on the latter. When I met Tom* at work, he cut the image of a neat man. His shirts were always well-pressed and neatly tucked in and his shoes pitch black. He looked well put together. Soon one thing led to another and I went over to his house. My first shock was that he never had furniture in the living room, just a carpet that gave off a stale smell.

I ignored that and imagined he was in transition. His kitchen was quite dusty and his dishes looked in quite a state. They were stained, with marks of cockroach droppings. When he saw me look at them, he quickly said he rarely cooks. His shoes were messily spread across his bedroom.

His bed linen looked like it had been used for weeks without a wash. What took the cake, however, was the towel he offered me. It was brown and smelled of staleness I had to dry my body with my hankie. Needless to say in every corner all I could see was dirt, I came up with an excuse to flee, no way was I spending the night.

SOURCE: Daily Monitor

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