Dotted & Plain

The rain pours and showers, bespattering the glass windows of the convenience store. I decided to stay for a while, hoping that the depressing rain stops. It’s comforting to realize that the convenience store served its purpose for such an unsettling time as this: a shelter in time of storms; a refuge in times of peril.

But that is not why I write.

Stating the obvious is hardly an amusement… June to February comes with storms and rains with names beginning with all the letters of the alphabet. Our tropical land is now visited by one rainy Gorio. Next may be a windy Hortensia.. then a thunder-ish Insyang

I perused the shelves for items that piqued my curiosity. There are new things, new items, and new brands. Such things reassure that other people with great and industrious minds continue in their pursuit in making life for others more convenient.

Hurray for researching minds!

But then again, that is not why I write…

The truth is…

I wonder how it feels to purchase condoms… out of the convenience store… straight from the open shelves… right from the counter!

I embarrassingly admit this: I never purchased one from a convenience store – not from the counter, for that matter!

I don’t know. There seems to be something vulgar that goes along with the act of buying it. It makes me blush just debating whether it’s alright to purchase one. Of course, it’s alright to purchase one! Strange, though, that this preponderance makes me feel like a virgin all over – this debate in my mind. The face of my virgin past would never have purchased it, for in so doing, I would’ve ushered myself into an un-virginal territory.  But now, i wonder. Is my adulthood a justification at all? Is my married status a ticket?

Why does it feel like I am sinning when i am thinking of a “greater good” here?

I guess I’m not as liberated and bold as I think I am on the outside. I cannot live up to the impression that, undoubtedly, I am no longer virginal. I can’t play the role of an assertive in such a matter; I’m not a natural modern empowered woman who can do things at will. It is odd how that small boxed object strips me of my “feminine powers”.

I deferred this act hitherto- this buying of this strange protective balloon-looking object from a convenience store. There seems to be a stigma that clings and sticks with you when you slide that small pack of pocket-sized condoms on the cashier table; the checkout guy/girl looking at you, poker-faced and indifferent… There’s a voice in your head that suggests that cashier guy/girl is wondering why on earth do you need condoms at this time of day!

In my head, Cashier person asks how many does she use in one go? How often does she use one? The cashier person wonders… the person next in line wonders… the other person not in line wonders. They are curious – quiet, but curious. They wonder in their heads. They don’t say anything out loud, but they are certainly intrigued; their curiosity definitely whetted. I certainly would be, if I were in their shoes… just saying…

If an unsexy and unattractive woman who is ill-treated by time purchases condoms… it’s hard to reconcile with the sight of it. That is me in that sight. And this is only my opinion. I’d like to think I am “unsexy” – a likely candidate who does not rouse an approbation of sexual activeness… I don’t emit an alluring aura…

So…

I didn’t buy condoms. My hand hovered over the thing for five seconds, then withdrew. I am not as gutsy as I am expected to be. I’m married; it should feel okay and “legal” to purchase such things, but it doesn’t. Not yet, at least. Perhaps I’ll manage to slide a pack of the thing into a shopping cart next time, when I go for a major grocery shopping – slide it along with other items for decoy and misdirection…

My classmate, who had been lingering and waiting for the weather to be kinder, had been curious. She saw me peruse – hover and withdraw; hover and withdraw – what’s the best condom? she asked. I told her, the thinnest, simplest, and smoothest. I have a preferred brand. I told her this… and I told her why.

Smoother and thinner and simpler mean maximum sensation, for there is less barrier…

Dotted and flavored and mentholated and other embellished sort, hurt. They tend to tear and wear and sometimes, wound. I don’t like that sort. Sex doesn’t last long with such experimental aggrandizements…

Unless… unless… there is unbridled desire and passion.

Unless there is ample lubrication…

Unless there is this.. and that…

Just saying…

Sometimes, really… the simpler, the better…

2 thoughts on “Dotted & Plain

  1. Once, I was in a drug store when a married woman came up to me an asked what type of condom was the best. I was 16, unmarried, and no where near that aisle. I told her I had no idea what to tell her. Not only was I embarrassed, I was offended; how could she think I was experienced enough to know about condoms? To this day I have no idea why she sort me out – perhaps because I was the only other woman in the store. I’m now married with 4 children and the experience still causes me to blush.

    Liked by 1 person

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