Trojan Tactics

A mother and daughter experience many watershed moments in their relationship. Moments that begin with first steps, first haircuts, first teeth and somehow, in the blink of an eye, segue into first dates, first periods and first heartbreaks. My elder daughter and I shared one such moment just recently – albeit not exactly a run of the mill happening, I’m sure. Let’s call it “First Exposure to the Condom Aisle.” No, no, no… neither one of us were actually in the market. Me, because I hate the balloon-y little buggers and certainly NOT her. If she WERE to be in the market, she would find herself quickly ushered into her bedroom from which she would not emerge until she reaches legal age, thereby seriously crushing any further attempts I might make to control… oops… give her advice. Anyway, I was innocently looking for some pedicure products in a pharmacy that I don’t usually frequent. She was helping me look. We found them, for some unknown reason, in the same aisle as the condoms and various other “down there” kinda things. I swear I heard her ass cheeks SLAM together out of the sheer panic of it all. My “maternal side” ignored the display to my left and focused on the products to my right. My daughter, who looked for all the world like she was channeling a tomato or about to have her head pop right off due to increasing blood pressure, tried to focus on my asinine conversation about heel creams. My “sadistic bitch” side loved the fact that she would have rather been washing the store’s floor with her TONGUE than standing between her mother and a huge display of condoms. After a few minutes, her butt must have started to unclench. She started to ease up some and was joking about the sheer “ookiness” of the whole aisle. We laughed like kindergartners about why on earth they would stock foot products, jock itch cream, and bug-itch-remedy-imbedded swabs all in the same place. My theory is that they decided to throw in the condoms with everything else that makes folks squirm. After bypassing a $35 foot cream and opting for a $10 version, I launched into action. “Hey! Check it out! They have TROPICAL condoms!” My daughter developed an immediate and intense interest in some overstock herbal teas that were being stored on the very top shelf. I brushed past her, heading for the Trojans, as she muttered something about how maybe we needed more Echinacea tea (mind you, we never had any in the first place). “Wow! Tropical colors AND flavors, it says!” I think she was beginning to dissolve into a puddle of sweat. Then I got on a roll. “OH LOOK! They have that “warming massage” stuff here too”… until I read the directions and realized (with some disappointment) that it’s the same ole personal lubricant it’s always been. I guess, if you’re “massaging” it in the area for which it’s intended, the “warming” is a given. As I stood there in front of a display of products for which I have no conceivable use, something changed. I sensed her moving a little closer. She seemed to realize that one of us wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about browsing. At that moment, I decided to pick up the new packaging that’s specifically targeted at women. Condoms, “freshening cloths” and a nifty little carrying case. Quite an improvement over the guys’ approach – condom, a tshirt or (heaven forbid) a sock and a pronounced circle on the back of their wallet. We discussed the fact that, of course, when they’re destined for women, they definitely cost more and then I noticed her glance shift. “Tropical, huh?” she said. I just nodded. Then, she actually reached out, picked up a package and said, “here Mom – how ‘bout THESE? Read what it says!” So, I did. What had my previously panicked, incredibly uncomfortable, pretending to be naïve daughter handed me? Condoms with a vibrating ring. Woooo-howdy. I felt my ass cheeks SLAM together out of the sheer panic of it all.