P had been friends with A since Junior high. They discovered punk rock together, did a few cross country road trips together, started a record label together, and had been housemates for years after A got back from college. They'd been best friends for about 15 years. You could make some crack about them perhaps being more than friends and it would have been believable. Except...
I dated P for a few months. One morning, after I'd spent the night at his place, we took a shower together. I grabbed some soap from the dish, and he said in horror "No! don't use that! That's A's soap!" I started thinking, oh, it's probably some specialty soap for acne or combination skin or something, and asked, "Oh, is A really protective of this soap? Is it expensive?". He looked at me surprised, handed me -his- soap, and said, all flustered, " no, it's just that A doesn't use a washcloth". My reaction was, "yeah, so?", and then he said in a really agitated look-do-I-have-to-spell-it-out-for-you voice "so, that means this soap directly touches his genitals! That's why I have my own soap."
I was flabbergasted. Of all the things that might have cooties from touching someone's body, you'd have to think soap would be fairly low on the squick scale. And really, if you've road-tripped with someone in a station wagon for 2 weeks, haven't you shared worse personal space violations with them than any mere bar of soap could be responsible for?
You can probably guess that we didn't date much longer. I dunno whether this outburst was caused by homophobia or germphobia, but neither is a particularly attractive quality in a partner. I'm kinda picky that way.