Erin Ramachandran, 41, reveals how her husband’s obsession left her resenting him
WORDS: KATE GRAHAM. MAIN PHOTO (POSED BY MODEL): GETTY
Never in my dreams did I think I’d have anything in common with Victoria Beckham. I’m not famous with millions in the bank, and the paparazzi don’t follow my every move.
But watching David Beckham talk about his obsessive routines in his Netflix documentary – how he meticulously organises his wardrobe, and cleans every candle at night – I felt a flash of recognition and a wave of sympathy for his wife.
I know the cataclysmic impact of a slightly open clothes drawer, as I’m married to a man who has OCD.
When I met Keith, 43, in April 2006, I was struck by his smile. We went to the same church, and he was intelligent and handsome, and worked in IT. We married in October 2007, and as we kissed, I was sure I was about to begin the most wonderful chapter of my life.
But once we were back from our honeymoon, it all changed. Keith started jumping up to clean as soon as we’d finished eating dinner. I wanted to hang out on the sofa, but he’d be scrubbing the floors and surfaces for hours.
By November, he was following me around and straightening anything I’d touched. Alarmingly, with every day that passed he would spend longer and longer tidying. But he refused to accept it was an issue and just said he liked to clean. We were hardly ever intimate, and I felt cheated out of the newlywed intimacy I had so looked forward to.
ANGRY AND SAD
On Valentine’s Day 2008, I thought that cooking his favourite meal and decorating the house with candles might get us back on track. So when Keith arrived home late, gobbled his meal then immediately got up to clean, I snapped. Furious and heartbroken, I began shouting and soon we were having a huge row.
I ran out on to the street and Keith followed me, also shouting. Concerned, our neighbours called the police, who came and arrested Keith. Though no charges were brought, it was awful. I couldn’t believe our first Valentine’s had ended with Keith being arrested.
Keith’s cleaning impacted our social life, too. When we went out with friends, he often couldn’t get out of the house. Whether I nagged him to hurry up or sat and waited in the car, it always ended in disaster. My frustration would turn to fury, and either we didn’t go at all, or by the time we got there I was too angry to enjoy myself.
Keith was also
