Brr... condoms.

I have two condom stories. When I was a resident, I did an elective at some of the high-school-based student health centers run by the county. At one of the schools, I was sitting in the front office, shootin' the shit with the office staff when a sweet-faced boy came in and asked shyly for some condoms. The secretary gave him a bag of them. I was on the verge of making some inane comment when the nurse snickered and told me that he comes in every week for a bag. "We're not sure *what* he actually does with them.

The other isn't so much a story as a confession. I was a very focused adolescent and college student, as well as very devout. So, you guessed it... I was a virgin bride at 25, whereupon I went on the Pill and so never had to deal with the dratted rubber thingies. Until one day a couple of years ago, I was taking a medication that made the Pill less effective, and didn't want to take any chances. The hubby and I were on vacation up in Canada and naturally wanted a little action. I bravely took it upon myself to seek out the necessary equipment, assuring my husband that I was a physician and therefore beyond embarrassment. People, I wandered into three drugstores before I got over my chagrin enough to buy the silly things. It didn't help that this was in Whistler, B.C. which is sort of a spawning ground anyway.

And no, my husband hadn't bought them before either. And no, we didn't like them one bit.