Condoms: A Love Story
The kissing begins. One lip massages the other. Hands wander. Tongues get involved.
The kissing picks up. Passion is inserted into the equation. Biting, nibbling, and sucking all make their presence known. Hands make their way to lower extremities. Tongues now focus on other areas. Juices are flowing. Blood is pumping. Hearts are racing.
He looks at her. She looks at him. They position themselves perfectly. Clothes are ripped off. The scent of sex invades, establishes a residency. It’s time, the right moment. Intercourse is about to occur. He is ready. She is ready. But she pauses and asks:
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
What? Did you think this was a passage from Fifty Shades of Grey?
Hide the chains. Hold back the whips. Keep the handcuffs at a safe distance. I’m talking about condoms. Yes, nobody likes to use them. I certainly hate them. You’re in the heat of the moment and you have to stop, rip open the preventative baby maker, and strap on that wonderful contraceptive. Hopefully, you’ll remember how to use one.
Ladies, make sure your partners remember how to use one. We don’t want any ripping or leakage occurring. We all know not to keep one in your wallet that is constantly placed in your back pocket and squashed by your gluteus maximus. If you think you’re going to have sex on a given night, bring a condom or two or six.
I don’t always wear condoms. But when I do, I prefer Trojan.
If you meet someone or are suddenly put in that position where you know it is going to happen, go on a condom run. Hell, bring her with you. That’s always an adventure, especially if you’re drunk. I have been on a couple condom scavenger hunts in my day and each time has brought me joy. You know the vocals right before that amazing guitar solo in “Free Bird”? That’s how I felt walking into CVS with bells on; a nice build-up of vocal, metaphorical foreplay, leading to potential history. Sex should be exactly like the guitar solo in “Free Bird”: long, passionate, moving, enjoyable, and eventual hands raised in the air once it’s finished, patting yourself on the back, giving yourself an A for performance or at least — for effort.
Now a lot of you may think that isn’t possible when a piece of latex rubber is strapped to your penis. My hand is raised. I’m nodding my head. You’re not alone. Even though I hate condoms as much as the next guy, they are as necessary as ketchup and mustard on a hot dog. In this instance, dress your hot dog. If you want to dress it with ketchup and mustard, that’s your call. No judgments coming from my end.
They are necessary because a girl needs to trust you before she is going to let you toot her horn. Condoms are not manipulation or deception. Any self-respecting girl should make sure you are packing the heat of a condom. Any girl who doesn’t is dumb. Just saying. Have fun with the crabs crawling all over your vagina and the itch that emerges from herpes.
Once you trust each other sexually, feel free to discuss the removal of the thing we all love to hate. I’m letting my boy roam free and explore my favorite area of a woman without a hat on my head. I just think you’ll get a lot more brownie points if you show that you are willing to use a condom, at least for the first time that is. I mean, I guess it isn’t so bad. There are worse things in life then wearing a condom. If you’re wearing a condom, that means you’re having sex, right… most of the time?
Again, I’m not judging. And what is better than sex? You know, besides an eight dollar Big Mac when you’re drunk in Penn Station. Not much, right? Safe sex is better than no sex at all. So when the batteries are sold separately, make sure you buy the damn batteries.
Wrap your tool — at least once.
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Unfortunately I can only speak to a heterosexual couple because that is my only area of experience. However, I don’t imagine there is much difference except for my stereotyping in the first step, which is facetious anyway. 1.
1. You don’t wake up to a Christmas tree–you wake up to bagels and a prolonged discussion about whether the family should consider going to a new bagel place because the lox aren’t sliced thin enough.
I thought that a man crying was a rare and ugly thing, certainly nothing that I would encounter in my romantic life.
You were a founding figure in the “adorkable” movement.