On my wedding night, I was surprised to see my husband… Wear medical gloves to hold his wife
People often say that marriage is a sweet milestone, the beginning of a new chapter. But for me, my wedding night was the scariest memory of my life. Even now, every time I think about it, I still shudder.
We had known each other through correspondence for over a year. He was kind, gentle, and had a stable job in the medical field. Both families agreed, and I thought I was lucky to have met such a mature and serious man. During our courtship, he was very restrained. He didn’t cross the line—just holding hands, light hugs, sometimes a quick kiss. I thought at the time that it was because he respected me.
The wedding went well. Friends celebrated, families were happy. I was so happy on our first night as husband and wife. But the moment the door to our bridal chamber closed, everything took an unimaginable turn.
He sat up in bed and opened the small medical bag he always carried. I was a little surprised but didn’t think much of it—until he pulled out a box of medical gloves and calmly put them on. Startled, I joked: “What are you doing, planning to operate on me?”
He didn’t laugh. His face was deadly serious, almost cold. He said, “I can’t touch you with my hands. I’m afraid of bacteria, I’m afraid of infection.”
I froze. I felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over me. I tried to remain calm and asked if something was wrong. He just shook his head, saying it was a “professional practice,” a way to “ensure safety.” But deep down, I knew this wasn’t normal.
That night, I felt ashamed and scared. All the hope and romance of a new bride had vanished, replaced by doubt and fear. I no longer felt like a wife—but like a patient on her husband’s examination table.
In the days that followed, things became clearer. He had always been cautious, avoiding intimate contact. When I felt him drinking water, he would immediately abandon it. That was when I realized that this was not just a habit—it was an obsession.
I confided in my mother-in-law. She sighed and admitted that she had suffered from obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) about cleanliness since childhood. My family had kept it a secret because they were afraid that I would reject the marriage. She believed that once she was married, with a husband and a family, she would gradually change. But life was not that simple.
Now I stood at a crossroads. On one side was my continued love for him—a responsible, kind husband who had never done me any harm. On the other side was the fear and futility of a marriage without even the most basic physical intimacy.
Many nights, I cried myself to sleep, asking: “Can I accept a marriage where we never had any contact? Do I have the patience to help him overcome this pain?”
I still had no answer. But one thing was certain: that night changed everything. It transformed me from a dreamy girl into a woman forced to face a harsh truth—that marriage is not just about love, but also about secrets and flaws that no one reveals until it’s too late.
So what should I do now?