My boyfriend, Alex, insisted from the beginning of our relationship that I take two showers a day—one in the morning and one at night. He said it was a non-negotiable rule if we were going to be together. At first, I was confused and slightly annoyed, but he was otherwise such a great guy that I decided to just go along with it. Still, I couldn’t help wondering why this was so important to him. He would often ask, “Did you shower yet?” before we cuddled or went out, almost like it was some kind of ritual.
Eventually, he asked me to meet his mother. The morning of the visit, I made sure to shower especially thoroughly, scrubbing everything twice and putting on freshly laundered clothes straight from the dryer. I even used a bit of perfume to be safe.
When we arrived at his childhood home, his mother greeted us warmly at the door. She hugged me, then stepped back and smiled approvingly. “You smell lovely! Come, let me show you something,” she said. Before I could respond, she gently guided me down the hallway. I looked back at Alex, who just gave me an encouraging thumbs-up like this was completely normal.
She led me into a bathroom—and I was stunned. It looked like a combination of a spa and a laboratory. There were multiple types of body washes arranged by skin type and pH level, sealed glass containers holding different textures of exfoliating gloves, loofahs categorized by softness, color-coded bath salts for different moods, and a cabinet filled with products labeled for “pre-shower cleansing procedures.” Above the mirror, in elegant gold lettering, a sign read: “A Clean Body Reflects a Clean Soul.”
His mother turned to me with pride and explained, in great detail, that in their family, proper cleansing was considered a spiritual discipline, and showering twice a day was the absolute minimum. She even demonstrated the “correct” method of scrubbing, including how many seconds to spend on each limb and how to rotate shampoo brands throughout the week to prevent “scalp stagnation.”
I stood there in stunned silence, nodding politely while mentally questioning all of my life choices.
When I finally returned to the living room, Alex looked at me as if to say, “Now you understand?” And I did. It all clicked. The shower rule wasn’t just a preference—it was a deeply ingrained family doctrine.
Later that night, we talked. I told him I didn’t want hygiene to feel like an exam I could fail. He admitted he had grown up believing anything less than two showers a day was unacceptable, and he was worried his family would judge me if I didn’t follow their routine.
We agreed to find a middle ground. I would shower when I wanted to—not because it was part of some strict ritual—and he would learn that personal cleanliness can be a preference, not a mandate.
His mother still occasionally texts me suggestions for “soul-purifying body scrubs,” but I just send back a heart emoji. And yes, sometimes I do still take two showers a day now—but only when I feel like it, not because it’s a family rule.
