« His first "F" Bomb | Main | The Google - Hilliard Relationship »
November 12, 2006
For Her Pleasure
I just returned from a short walk. The next three blog entries you read will be of things that came from that walk. I'm half tempted to drone on for several paragraphs about how amazing it is to be able to get three blog entries from a short walk -- giving me four blog entries ... but you deserve better.
I walk the same route every night. Up Main St./Avery Road to Weaver Middle School, a few laps around the track and then back home.
About half a mile up the road is a gas station/convenience store. It's a Citgo station. Citgo, I believe is Venezuelan-owned and the president of Venezuela is, of course, Hugo Chavez. You may remember Hugo Chavez as the man Pat Robertson wanted to have whacked and as the man who compared Bush to the devil (which really doesn't narrow things down all that much, but he did it in front of the UN).
I've been stopping at the Citgo station, almost daily, for about a year and would still be stopping there had it not recently closed following the death of the owner. 
Not long after I started stopping there I was standing in line and sort of checking out the things behind the counter. There were the tobacco products, lottery tickets and, of course, soft-core porn DVDs.
The DVDs caught me off guard. I'd been in the store dozens of times and I'd never seen them. They weren't displayed in an in-your-face manner and I wondered if they ever sold any of them. Despite the fact I sometimes make reference to Ron Jeremy I really don't know all that much about porn (except for the fact that, like most guys, I like it ... and I say that just for effect, Mom ... if I liked it I'd probably know more about it) but it seemed to me, based on the titles, that this was probably B-level soft-core porn; not your high level hard core stuff. I doubt that any of the titles would have been a current-day Debbie Does Dallas, Behind the Green Door or Deep Throat (which I think are hard core titles, but, for all I know, are pretty tame and available behind the counter at United Dairy Farmers and In-N-Out Burgers all across the country).
Wait, I did see a really bad copy of Debbie Does Dallas about 22 years ago. This, if your porn-history is as bad as mine, is the porno flick that doesn't start with a young guy delivering pizza to a group of women having a Longaberger party.
Months passed. One day I noticed the porno DVDs were gone from the Citgo. The guy behind the counter didn't know where they'd gone but said he was never aware that they'd sold any of the movies.
Now, as I've said, the Citgo station is closed.
Today as I strolled I stopped by the Gas Station/Mini-Mart about a 1/4 mile past the Citgo. As I stood in line with my Diet Pepsi I took a look at the things behind the counter. There were lottery tickets, some cold medicines, and magazines of an adult nature. As I glanced upward I noticed condoms.
I don't buy a lot of condoms these days as I've had the magic operation. (And it was awesome! I went to the doctor on a Friday, he painted everything between my navel and knees iodine-purple, I got a shot, there was some snipping, and I was sent home to spend the weekend holding a bag of frozen peas on my sore spots. I'm pretty sure peas are used so that, just in case one gets out of the bag and works its way into a man's underwear, as he digs it out he'll be provided the opportunity of seeing just how much bigger than a pea his testicles are and he'll think to himself, "Sure, you guys are no-longer baby producers, but look how much bigger than peas you are!" Really, this can be the only reason, especially in Ohio, that peas are used. We don't grow a lot of peas here so, basically, we're using an imported frozen vegetable to provide comfort to our wounds -- physical, spiritual, and manliness-wise -- when frozen soy beans and/or corn would be better for the local economy. Of course, both of these vegetables are larger than peas. Ice cubes from the tray are way too big.
Generally speaking, let's try to keep in mind that introducing anything from the freezer to that region of a man's body is going to lead to some shrinkage, so the smaller the frozen item introduced is, the better.)
So, I don't buy a lot of condoms these days. And, as I think back there are only a couple of condom-buying experiences that stick out.
I remember the first time I bought condoms (of course). I'd gone to visit a blonde gal at another college and I wasn't even sure I'd need condoms ... but I wanted to have them and not need them rather than need them and not have them (and as I sit here, 25 years later, without a 24-year old offspring, it seems to have been a good move.) I went to a drug store not too far from the university to make my buy. I didn't know what to get and was afraid that when my date went to introduce me to her just-returning-from-work roommate it would be the coed who I'd made the purchase from. When I went to pay for the condoms (Trojans, unlubricated and maybe with a powder of some sort on them ... they were very dry and this was the last time I bought unlubricated condoms) I nervously fumbled the money out of my pocket and spilled it across the counter as I choked on whatever I was trying to say ("double bag this, please," maybe).
The next time that sticks out was May 1986. I know the month because I was in Columbus working 18-hour days. One night after work I was in a King Kwik (probably) and was the only patron. I still hadn't gotten past being nervous when I'd buy condoms and figured since I was the only person in the store it was a good time. "Is this all?" asked the guy behind the counter.
"Yea. No! Wait! Let me get another box." As I retrieved the additional box I wondered how I'd sounded and felt that some more explanation was needed. "It's not that I think I'm going to get incredibly lucky over the next couple of days ... but I figure they'll keep until I need them. "
The guy laughed and I was able to pay him without throwing bills or change all over and behind the counter.
The other time that sticks out is tonight. I know the day as it was just a couple of hours ago and my memory hasn't gone all to hell just yet.
Why would a guy with a vasectomy buy condoms? Curiosity.
Tonight, when my eye caught the condom display my eyes played over the titles. Three titles anyway ... I started with Trojans Lubricated (and made the mental acknowledgment that 'lubricated' is always the way to go), moved over to Trojans ... for Her Pleasure and then stopped at Trojans ... for Her Pleasure ONS.
I couldn't imagine what For Her Pleasure could mean. Ribbed, For Her Pleasure have been around for years, but this packaging was different. The boxes were bigger than the plain old lubricated and pleasure-inspecific Trojans ... but not big enough to contain even an airline-sized bottle of Baileys. The only thing that made sense to me was that the condoms were super thick, providing a little extra girth and a little less sensitivity for the male (and thus some longer pre-get away from me I wanna lay here and drool time, you know, for her pleasure) or they came with some sort of extension or both.
Curiosity got the better of me and for just a few dollars more I was able to one, make a Clint Eastwood reference and two, satisfy my what's up with today's condoms curiosity.
When I pulled down the Trojans ... For Her Pleasure the guy behind the counter gave me a knowing smile. When I put the Trojans ... For Her Pleasure ONS next to them the knowing smile turned to a puzzled look and he said, "You might be the first guy I've ever sold those to. I normally sell those to women, late at night after the bars have closed."
I spilled a bunch of ones, some change, all my credit cards and kids pictures, my insurace card, and several business cards out of my wallet and onto the floor before being eventually able to make the purchase.
And what's up with today's prophylactic products?
The Trojans ... For Her Pleasure look like the condoms of yesterday. The difference, and the reason for the larger package, is that the box has a cut-out picture of Brad Pitt that can be strapped to the guy's head.
The Trojans ... For Her Pleasure ONS, which were $1.00 cheaper, comes with a simple brown paper bag. In very small print on the inside of the bag it is marked: Trojans ... For Her Pleasure / One Night Stand.
Man. That was a long way to go for that wasn't it?
Really, when I saw, Trojans ... for Her Pleasure I just wondered what the hell it could mean. You got a guy laying on you. He probably has bony elbows smashing your hair into the pillow. You know you could do better but you tell yourself you're tired of playing the game. You keep asking yourself why you didn't marry that other guy ... he seemed to really care a lot about you and he went on to sell his software company for a small fortune. Your mother hates this guy and your dad just seems to like him because he gets Ohio State / Michigan tickets. You're pretty sure you need some new shoes ... nothing you have matches the new purse. What was that noise!!! Got to get away before the drooling starts!!!
I mean, it would take one hell of a rubber to overcome all of that.
Posted by delmer at November 12, 2006 5:39 PM