Most seven year old girls don’t ask their mothers for condoms, but that’s what I did. We were at Rite Aid (then known as Payless) shopping in the baby aisle. I don’t remember what my mom was looking for, but I think it may have been for a baby shower gift. We were in that aisle for a really long time, and one can only scrutinize pacifiers for so long before getting bored. I moved down the row and saw these brightly colored, shiny looking disks. They had a picture of a man imprinted on them, and I recognized them as those golden chocolate coins that you get at Christmastime or whenever you attend a pirate themed birthday party.
Being a chocolate fiend, I asked my mother if I could have them. I don’t remember my mother’s expression, but she was most likely horrified.
“Sweetie, those aren’t chocolate coins.”
I was so confused. They were the right shape, right color, what else could they be?
“What are they?” I inquired.
Bluntly, she said “They’re for when adults have sex.”
It was now my turn to feel horrified. I felt embarrassed, dirty, and shocked. Something that I thought was an innocent piece of chocolate turned out to be for naked people.
***
I think I was about 16 the next time condoms made a substantial impact on my life. We’re not counting 9th grade health class, because the teacher just said to use condoms if you have sex—we never actually saw one in real life. So I was 16, rummaging around in my older sister’s room while she was gone. Typical. I think I was looking for nail polish remover or something, when I stumbled upon a not-so-friendly object sitting amongst the clutter on her vanity table.
At first guess it looked like a chocolate coin. Logic told me this was not true, because I had been fooled before. I took some other facts into consideration, like how my sister had not been to any pirate themed birthday parties recently, and how she was hanging around with this one guy quite a bit.
Here’s what popped into my virgin mind: “My sister is a whore.”
I began to feel betrayed. Disappointed. Shocked. What a slut! She hadn’t even known this guy for a year. I had to be sure it was not a chocolate coin. I prayed that it would be. Nervously, I began to open it up, hoping to find milk chocolate and not lubricated latex. I poked the faux coin with a finger nail. I peeled the wrapper back a bit. As I exhaled, I felt the weight of an elephant being lifted off my chest. It was just chocolate. Tricked once again.
***
At age 20 my skin actually came in contact with a condom. It was purple.
I was attending a health curriculum workshop with the eighth grade teachers in the district. Mostly we covered new info on STDs, we discussed pregnancy prevention, refusal skills to teach our kids, etc. Towards the end of the day, we each had to teach a 10 minute lesson from the new curriculum book. One of the teachers did her lesson on how to use a condom (Which, btw, is only allowed at one middle school in the district. Apparently showing 13 year olds condoms is the equivalent to making them watch porn).
We partnered up, and one of us had to put the condom on our partner’s hand. I got the privilege of being the penis. I held my hand up straight as the other teacher began to unroll the purple condom onto my hand. She pinched the top and took care of business. Another teacher impersonated a student and asked “So, is it okay if I open the wrapper with my teeth?” The person teaching the lesson said, “Sure, if that’s what you prefer.” This, btw, is a big fat NO NO. Opening condom wrappers with your teeth is not safe since your teeth can accidentally puncture the latex. Duh. This is why we have so many pregnant teens. Teachers forget to tell students the important facts for condom use.
***
When I was a junior in college I really had to get comfortable around condoms. I was an RA (resident assistant) for one of the freshman halls, and part of my job was to ensure that the community bathrooms were stocked with free condoms.
When they ran out, I would go to the health center to get more. I’d say, “I’m an RA in Landers. Can I get a bag of condoms for my hall?” I was very careful to make it clear that the condoms were for my residents. I didn’t want the receptionist to think that I was there to get a big brown bag full of condoms just for myself.
After receiving the condoms, I put them in an empty locker in the bathrooms, one on the girls’ floor, one on the boys’ floor. The girls were really good about not abusing the free condoms, and by that I mean they wouldn’t all disappear in two days. The boys, however, liked to play pranks with them, and did things like stick ten of them to a friend’s door or use them as water balloons. It got so bad I had to have an intervention.
I held a meeting for the boys I was in charge of, and it went something like this:
“Guys, you better stop playing pranks with the condoms, or I’m not going to get them for you anymore. Then you can just go down to the health center yourselves and ask the old lady behind the counter for them. Is that what you want?”
They looked down at their feet and said, “Noooo.”
I continued, “And if you are the person who takes ALL the condoms in the locker, you need to stop. There’s no reason to be a condom hoarder. I don’t want to go to the health center every other day asking for five pounds of condoms. They’re going to start thinking my residents are shooting a porno.”
There was some grumbling from the boys.
“Now, have a cupcake and go study,” I said, holding out a plate, because no one ever comes to community hall meetings unless you promise free food.
***
One last condom tid bit regarding my life: I used to not like to say or spell the word “condominium” for obvious reasons.
A couple weeks ago, one of my students was chasing some kids after school with what he called a "wet balloon." I made him stop torturing the other students, come inside and throw it away. Upon closer inspection it was indeed a red condom. I made sure he used some hand sanitizer on his way out.
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