A Hubs Story

Oh mercy...men! Men! Everyone that reads this blog or knows us knows Brad is quite into tennis. He plays on a team and goes to team practice every Thursday night. Last night while at practice the guys decided to make things a little interesting. They decided to bet each other the shirts off their backs. Yep, if you won you got the prize of taking home the other person's dirty smelly sweaty shirt. What a prize...What a prize!

So at midnight last night Brad walks in with a big smile on his face holding up and might I add holding it way too close to my face the dirty smelly sweaty shirt that used to belong to a tennis teammate. Unfortunately I was not as pleased about this bet or the win. I faked my happiness. No, I'm not going to lie I didn't fake my happiness. I questioned right to my husband's face...why men are so weird?

Let me put this into perspective...girl terms...I would never go to a gym with a friend and bet that friend that I could soul cycle faster than her and if I accomplished it then I would win her sports bra...OH HECK NO! NEVER! See what I'm saying, men are weird!

Now in case you don't know me or you don't know me well let me inform you...I'm kind of a germaphobe. I'm much better than I used to be, but still a bit of a germaphobe. I was not too excited about having to put this "prize" t-shirt in the laundry today. Judge me if you want but I was super careful placing it in the washer earlier. I actually used another one of Brad's shirts as a glove then picked up the dirty smelly sweaty "prize" shirt with my thumb and index finger holding it out away from myself and then carefully placing it in the washer. I was also careful to not let it brush against my wrist or forearm. And somewhere in Phoenix as my mom reads this she is starting to laugh as she pictures her germaphobe daughter placing this dirty smelly sweaty shirt in the laundry.

I can handle my husband's dirty clothes just fine. I mean dirty and still moist from sweat I'm not a fan of but I deal with it. However, I clearly know my husband so it doesn't gross me out as much as a dirty smelly sweaty shirt of someone I don't even know. Fingers-crossed betting the shirts off their backs at tennis practice does not become a common thing!