WARNING: Boys cannot read this. If you are a boy and are reading this, stop immediately. The following article is chock-full of highly intimate girl secrets that will be 10 times more embarrassing than any TV commercial for feminine-hygiene products you've ever seen. So quit it. I mean it. You'll be sorry.
There are basically three kinds of condoms: unlubricated latex, lubricated latex, and lambskin. The lambskins are no good because they haven't been proven to be a barrier to infection. Anyway, they're really made of lambies and that makes us sad, especially around Easter time. (The real reason we don't like them is that they actually smell like lamb. One is tempted to lubricate them with mint jelly.)
There are variations on the basic latex condoms. Some condoms are prelubricated, with spermicidal jelly, even. Others are not. Strictly B.Y.O.K.Y.
The strangest variation by far is the ribbed latex condom. Why are these condoms ribbed? This is supposed to be stimulating? Should one attempt to play washboard tunes on it? This is just part of a big problem with condoms. Condoms were, and are, designed by men.
What a wonderful world it would be. Skip the ribbing, skip the lube. If women designed condoms there is no question that they would be padded.
"But size doesn't matter!" comes a chorus of voices. (The loudest voices come from boys who are peeking. Stop that right now. Turn to the sports page immediately.) Sure length doesn't matter. But give any girl a small dose of truth serum and ask her about width.
Admit it. If padded condoms were placed on the market, hordes of screaming women would storm their local druggists and dash out with tote bags full. Unfortunately, it wouldn't work. After all, there is that ticklish issue of boy sensitivity, which we can't overlook, even if we occasionally want to. Padded condoms would rob boys of the skin-to-skin senstion they already claim condoms rob them of. And we can't have that.
No, we modern women, being kind and sensitive lovers, would design whisper-soft condoms, completely transparent and microscopically thin. The paisley, rainbow, and floral-print condoms we designed would be strictly novelty items, kept for special occasions only. Ditto the condoms with cute sayings: "Hang in there, baby, Friday's coming"; "My girlfriend went to Florida and all I got was this lousy condom"; and the classic "I'm with stupid" (arrow pointing back toward the boy). Other specialty items would include the male-ego condom, which, like black olives, come in three sizes:jumbo, colossal, and humongous. Naughty subversives would enjoy the Karen Finley assortment, colorful, decorative condoms that turn ordinary penises into bananas, hotdogs, yams, and more.
But I digress. The best place to buy condoms is your local massive drugstore that has them on display, self-serve, just like corn pads or athlete's foot spray.
So go shopping. Dress cool, hold your head high, read labels, make your selection. Be assured that most popular brands come with little instruction booklets much like the ones found in boxes of Tampax (uh oh --don't mix them up!). While at the drugstore, be sure to purchase at least one of the following items: Tickle anti-perspirant, Ban Roll-on, or any of the Calvin Klein line of men's grooming aids. You'll need these for important condom experiments at home.
At home, be alone. Light candles. Play inspiring music; any record by Rick James will do. Remove one of the condoms from its packet. Examine it carefully. Then put it to work. Experiment with your slippery new friends; whip those sons-of-gummi-worms into shape. Recruit those deodorant bottles and practice, practice, practice.
And how about some new nicknames for the old standbys? Love skins. Slicks. Wet suits. Silk stockings. Eight-by-two glossies.
Soon enough, you'll be happy and relaxed, perfectly in control of those silly little slips o' sin. But wait. Something's missing. Oh yes, the hard part. I mean the good part. I mean, both.
It is far, far easier to start them on condoms when the relationship is young. In fact, the condom is a terrific tool of seduction when you're ready to make the leap between the sheets. Call that someone on the phone and say to him, casual-like, "I just bought a new kind of condom and I'm dying to try it out... want to come over?" Or when out on the town with your paramour, and the clock on the clubhouse wall says thump thump thump, push that hunk against the wall and growl, "Listen, buddy. I've got a condom in my pocket and I'm not afraid to use it. We're going home."
Before you know it, you'll be a veritable connoisseur of condoms. You'll allow them to drop casually out of your purse in front of attractive men at cocktail parties. You'll dispense them to friends, give lessons, perhaps even roll your own. "Oh, handsome boyfriend," you'll soon sigh, "I've always wanted to see you in rubber."
And he won't mind one bit.
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