Thursday, February 14, 2008
Josh Writes;
I'm really very in love with my girlfriend. Would do anything for her. But ladies, there are some things that you shouldn't trust to men, no matter how much they want to help.
So the other day I went to our local wholesale membership "club" (I'd mention them by name, but they're not paying me) with a short list of must-have items. At the very top of that list was a "variety pack" of tampons. As a man, I know nothing of tampons past their most basic purpose, but I understand the concept of "variety", so I felt up to the task at hand.
Turns out I shouldn't have.
It seems that "variety packs" of tampons don't gel with the idea of bulk sales, because while they had "super", "regular", and "light" of the name brand each available in packs of 100, they had no combination of the three in one convenient package. Like I said, I love my girlfriend. A lot. But it never occurred to me before that very moment that I would end up in a situation where I'd fail her simply because I never thought to ask her the average consistency of her period.
So I stand there in the "feminine hygiene" aisle for 15 minutes with a look on my face a cross between "deer in the headlights", and "guy standing in front of tank in Tianamen square hoping it stops before it hits me. I pick up each box more than once in an attempt to educate myself on the finer points of cotton vagina inserts and their various cardboard delivery systems.
Three nice older women, one at a time mind you, attempted to come to my aid, but alas, their participation was limited to that of a sympathetic ear as I tried to explain to them that I was simply unqualified to match up the right kind of tampon to my girlfriends specific vagina. I don't know if new vaginas come with a user manual or not, but if they do, I've never known a woman who'd let me thumb through it.
I eventually broke down and just called my girlfriend to ask her what she wanted, but not until after I'd been standing in that aisle long enough to develop sympathy cramps from the various cryptic "box diagrams". Ironically enough, the "box diagrams" were printed on a box.
In conclusion ladies, just remember: It's uterus, not uteryou.
So the other day I went to our local wholesale membership "club" (I'd mention them by name, but they're not paying me) with a short list of must-have items. At the very top of that list was a "variety pack" of tampons. As a man, I know nothing of tampons past their most basic purpose, but I understand the concept of "variety", so I felt up to the task at hand.
Turns out I shouldn't have.
It seems that "variety packs" of tampons don't gel with the idea of bulk sales, because while they had "super", "regular", and "light" of the name brand each available in packs of 100, they had no combination of the three in one convenient package. Like I said, I love my girlfriend. A lot. But it never occurred to me before that very moment that I would end up in a situation where I'd fail her simply because I never thought to ask her the average consistency of her period.
So I stand there in the "feminine hygiene" aisle for 15 minutes with a look on my face a cross between "deer in the headlights", and "guy standing in front of tank in Tianamen square hoping it stops before it hits me. I pick up each box more than once in an attempt to educate myself on the finer points of cotton vagina inserts and their various cardboard delivery systems.
Three nice older women, one at a time mind you, attempted to come to my aid, but alas, their participation was limited to that of a sympathetic ear as I tried to explain to them that I was simply unqualified to match up the right kind of tampon to my girlfriends specific vagina. I don't know if new vaginas come with a user manual or not, but if they do, I've never known a woman who'd let me thumb through it.
I eventually broke down and just called my girlfriend to ask her what she wanted, but not until after I'd been standing in that aisle long enough to develop sympathy cramps from the various cryptic "box diagrams". Ironically enough, the "box diagrams" were printed on a box.
In conclusion ladies, just remember: It's uterus, not uteryou.
Comments:
Post a Comment
