Mid-Life & Birth Controlwhen did buying condoms get so complicated?
A young guy walks into a pharmacy to buy condoms. He loads up the basket with random shit from the seasonal clearance bin and, red-faced, makes his way through the cash register hoping against hope the (young, hot) cashier doesn’t notice the family-pack of Trojan’s on the belt.
Hurried, elementary, chaste.
Those were the days!
Birth control was simple. You were either on The Pill or not. You either used condoms or not.
The biggest hardship? Choosing Trojan, Durex, or a sub-par no-name off-brand we had no idea was being pumped out by the same factory.
I haven’t used (hormonal) birth control in over 12 years. All 3 of my babies came intentionally. After 2 failed marriages, buying condoms is so far down the rabbit hole of memories they are delivered from barren land and abandoned caves.
It appears I’m getting back in the saddle and if one plans to partake in shenanigans, one should really have a hand in the proceedings.
Cue yours truly at the grocery store staring at the spread before me.
For fuck’s sake.
When did the writing shrivel up? And all those eclectic textures. What is this – Project Runway?
And what’s with the smeary shit? Look, I’m all for scratching an itch. But I’d rather it not cause me to scratch an itch.
WHY CAN’T THE BOX JUST TELL ME WHICH ONES WON’T MAKE ME ITCH FOR A WEEK!?!
Why is the writing so small?
I’m standing there all cock-eyed and squinty, vertically challenged arms stretched as far as they’ll go.
Determined – despite my dwindling ego – I fail the see the senior lady trying to get around me. It appears I’m standing in the middle of the aisle.
I profusely apologize for my dazed stance which has unwittingly intercepted her passage.
Eyes twinkling with laughter, a box of Depends in hand, she whispers “It only gets better from here”.