Last evening I was reminded that there was once a young man named Colin, aged fourteen and a half, that got into his little head that it was a necessary thing for any young man to own a pack of condoms.
You know, just in case the young man was lucky.
That set in motion a cascade of logical, reasoned, well-considered thoughts that would lead the young man utterly astray into the land of madness and silliness. Therefore, like the last time I told this story, the only suitable piece of music that should accompany this retelling is Yakety Sax, the theme song from Benny Hill.
The cascade of decisions started with the kiosk that lay about 200 yards from the house which sold these suddenly imagined necessaries for about €12 for a dozen. This kiosk was the one where my father bought his evening paper, or to which he would send me to buy the evening paper. The proprietor knew exactly who I was was, and whose boy I was.
Obviously I couldn’t buy any condoms there.
The next likely place was the local pharmacy, but there was the problem that one of my friends worked there that summer, and my paternal aunt is a pharmacist who worked…. you know where. The grocery stores? Uh uh, I knew plenty of people there. The gas station? Nope, one of my friends parents operated it. In a small town where everyone knew everyone else, I quickly ran out of options.
In all cases it was highly likely that as soon as the door slapped shut behind my arse, the telephones would be buzzing at my house and either of the women would inform my parents about my strange purchase. A fourteen year old boy, buying that? Obviously I was up to no good. I mean, did I even have a girl-friend? Nobody had ever seen me with one. So what would I want with those things? Was I hiding something?
In the end the cascade of decisions would make me take the bus into the Big Town not far away (about 20 km), and there I would spend about half my monthly allowance on things, and there I would still not dare to utter the words “and a packet of condoms, please” to the lady in the cash registry.
I was reminded again today when Mark and I was off doing the weekly shopping, we went to Boots and ended up standing in the aisle comparing lubricants aloud while people pressed past us. Silicon or water-based? Silicon is nice, but it’s a bitch on the sheets. Water-based doesn’t last that long. What should we take?
I guess the age of innocence is lost, forever. Maybe it died when I got into my head three years ago that condoms was a required part of any man’s possessions. But then again, the age of innocence is an illusion.
There was nothing innocent about my imagination even when I was fourteen.
we all grow and lose our innocence :p
It’s more fun that way :p
When I was a young man ( dinosaurs trod the Earth) a ‘pack of three’ used to be available from the barber’s but it was difficult to ask there as obviously father and uncles also needed haircuts. The barber even used to finish showing the mirror round the back of the head and automatically say “Need anything for the weekend”,? for my age group it was always delivered with a smirk. The place we eventually got them was in the gents at the local cinema. They had a machine there.
Be careful in the dark because they have one for chewing gum too.
I don’t know how many young ladies I courted in the back row, twin seats but I can tell you the damn things never got opened. .I think the rubber would have perished before they saw the light of day.
They were there so my friends could see I was prepared just like they were. Truth to be told I was probably about 45 before I held anything other than a hand at the pictures and that was just when she screamed at King Kong.
-giggles- I had no idea life was so hard for you ‘boys’.
I take it you don’t know anybody who works in Boots
I worked in STD/HIV prevention for a US state Health Department for a little over 10 years before disability forced me into early retirement. I used to use examples.much like yours to illustrate why providing free access to condoms for teens is good public health. In the early to mid ’90s I ran an outreach effort called “The Rubber Posse” which targeted teen handouts distributing free condoms and safer sex.information. We also had a similar effort for gay/bi men, transgenders, and male and female sex workers. It was a well received effort and a fascinating look into various sub-cultures. I am glad you now feel comfortable discussing lubrication options while shopping. We need to be less up tight about sex as a society and you and Mark (and many more like you) are chipping away at the wall of Victorian age attitudes – well done!
I don’t know when innocence fled me, but it was still my best friend when I thought that there wasn’t difference between a condom and a plastic bag.
The Age of Innocence is also a good book, by Edith Wharton.
And, I’m nearly twice your age and have never worn a condom. You can be a man without them.
When my daughter reached an age to need condoms I order some online for her.
Gotta love technology. 
When I worked in a pharmacy way back when even married men whispered as they bought condoms, the owner was asked by the ‘big man in town’ to employ his extremely thick daughter to boost her self-esteem. (The father paid her wage.)
All went smoothly for a week, until on a very busy Saturday morning a customer asked her, ultra sotto voice for a pack of condoms, specifying the brand.
Of course, the silly cow had no idea what they were or where they were… So she yelled out at the top of her voice, in the crowded shop, “Mr Cohen, where are the Goldtex?”
We lost a customer that day. AND a charity-case casual employee.
There were, of course, devil-may-care people even in Seffrika in those days.
One guy double-parked his flash Chevvie outside, rushed in and asked Cohen for two family packs. Cohen peered over his specs and asked “You know there are Twelfff in a packet?”
Customer smiled wickedly and replied “Yes… we’re going to Onrus for the weekend.”
[ a) Onrus is a coastal resort; b) it translates literally as unrest - or Place of no peace ]