It was a Friday night, the young'uns were at a sleepover and The Man and I had the house all to ourselves. I got a phone call on the way home. It was The Man. He asked me to pick up a few things for our evening without the kids. No problem, said I. I'm a grown-up-type person. I can buy stuff.
I normally don't get embarrassed about buying the more personal items. I buy maxi-pads and toilet paper all the time and I'll bet a million dollars that the ladies behind the cash registers have used both at least once. (I can't speak for the gentlemen.)
It's easy when these products are put on the conveyor belt with a few friends to keep them company. I tend to have about a dozen other things on the belt that help draw the attention away from the economy sized package of birth control. "Let's see, I need eggs...milk...flour...new socks...(this giant box of rubbers)...and Pez! Yep, that's all for today."
It works for me. The box doesn't call attention to itself and practically sing to the rest of the store, "Guess who's getting lucky tonight?!"
However...
When you show up with Trojans, K-Y, and a big bottle of Jose Cuervo, at the checkout, everyone KNOWS what you're doing with your Friday night. Of course, when you make this purchase at the express lane, the question that begs to be asked is "Will you be able to wait until you get to the car?"
The Barely Legal To Drink kid standing next to me with his OWN prophylactic/alcohol power duo in hand, caught my eye for an instant before he resumed his intense study of the floor tiles. I wish I could say I was cool enough to at least wink at him and tell him to have a great night.
Alas, I was not. I merely turned six shades of red as I made my purchase, remembering my frequent shopper card and a "$5 off a $25 purchase" coupon. (Score!)
That's dead sexy.
This post originally appeared two years ago today, but it's one of my favorites. Happy Anniversary, Jose and the Prophylactics.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
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