Hey Nicole, what are your thoughts on condoms. The guy I’m seeing wants us to use them, I don’t think we need to.
May I start with a great big OMG, I love the role reversal of the guy saying you need to use one. That happens maybe once a millennium, when there’s a full moon, and leprechauns come riding in on unicorns to release the fairies that have been trapped in Perez Hiltons lair of doom giving him super bitchy fairy powers.
My thought on condoms, I think they are funny. (No surprise considering I find almost everything funny) But condoms especially, I think make for amazing social awkwardness.
What’s a condom? It’s a baggie for your man bit. A plastic glove for your love septor.
When do you wear plastic gloves? When you think something is gross and you don’t want to touch it.
So common sense, which isn’t really that common these days, would make us think… “Hmm, if I find that (lady or man part) gross, and think it could be diseased, why the hell would I go near it at all?”
Condoms are like saying, “I think you’re hot, I want to do you, but I think you might be a dirty dirty hoe bag, so I’m going to wrap my junk in cellophane just incase.” How romantic.
And on the romance front, it is impossible to be romantic and use a condom. Impossible. All hot and heavy, and the moment of “do you have a condom?” comes up.
If the answer is yes, then you must locate said condom, get it out of it’s (tear here), when there’s no where to friggin tear packaging. Roll it on, oh shit it’s inside out. Roll it on the other way. Oh no he lost his “happiness”. Remove condom, try to bring back happy because without it it looks like an old, wrinkled, angry, dwarf.
But if the answer is no, I don’t have one. The real fun begins. Simultaneously you begin to size each other up. “Ok, I just met this chick drunk at Republik, or some other stupid place that spells their name with the wrong letters to sound edgy, an hour ago. What are the chances she’s a skank?” And the girl, “Ok, well I’m sure he’s a nice guy, he like, bought me drinks and had bottle service, who am I kidding, the guy’s a loser, I’m going to give him a fake number when I leave, but I’m drunk and horny”
Followed by the, “Have you ever had anything?” As if either one of them would tell the other at that point.
Why yes actually, says the man, my extra phalange has been infected multiple times, and the sores are still there, but you’re too wasted to notice!
So, you weigh your other options of not trying to drown your sorrows and validate your worth with random encounters while you search for a bread bag, because nothing says I respect myself more than doing it wonder bread bag styles.
But Nicole, what are you suggesting? Don’t use condoms?
No, no, I’m suggesting that you know the person you’re doing for long enough to go to a dr together and get checked. Condoms don’t protect against most diseases anyways, you can still get pregnant, (shout out to my favourite Friends episode), and having something for the rest of your life isn’t worth it the few mins of OOO ahhhhhs. But if that sounds like too much trouble to you, do go forth and enjoy your Rubbermaid sex, in all of it’s strange, squishy, wet flipper, sounding glory.
Thanks for writing Kristina,