Condoms, Commitment, and Connubial Bliss

by Wendee Mason

When I met my husband, I was filled with anticipation, combined with this overwhelming desire to throw up.

I'll never forget the first time I met Joe... and his nose. They were standing at a bar, and Joe asked me to dance. The nose tagged along. Actually, I was hoping that the nose meant bigger things were to come. 

That was the end of our dancing career. A year and a half later we were married. I only had to give him two twisted arms, a hit in the stomach and a swift kick to the groin. What is it with these men who won't commit? Getting him to marry me was the most difficult thing I ever had to do. Getting him to divorce me was quite easy.

Isn't it funny how your relationship changes? How many of you are single? Do you know what a 90-day wonder is? The first 30 days you wonder how you ever were so lucky to meet this person and how they are going to change your life for the better. Life is wonderful! Every little thing is exciting. Flossing your teeth rates right up there with orgasms.

The next 30 days you wonder what your future is going to be like together for the rest of your life. You wonder how you're going to mesh his brown faux-leather sofa in with your white chintz sofa. You wonder how you're going to let him know that his tan and brown wardrobe is soon going to Goodwill, and you wonder how many more nights you can only get 3 hours of sleeps.

The last 30 days, you wonder how you're going to let him or her know that you're leaving on the 91st day. This is when you begin finding fault with the little things. Like how he wipes his butt after going to the bathroom. Joe has this ritual that he goes through that is totally unbelievable. After he fumes up the bathroom, where no living creature can exist besides him, he takes two sheets of two ply toilet tissue and folds them in half, with the fold facing outward. Then he spits on his fingers, so the paper doesn't slide while he glides the two sheets up his right leg from the knee to his butt. I haven't figured out the significance of this, but it seems to be a necessary step to getting to the crack of the situation. Then he reaches back and with a quick wipe he throws it in the toilet. Then he does the whole thing over again. fold, spit, glide and wipe.

At this point when you find out your partner's obscene bathroom habits, most of the couples decide to end the relationship. By the 91st day, you're free again to do another Ninety Day Wonder with someone new.

For the few who stick it out past 90 days, annoying habits you once thought were cute, now gross you out. For instance, I didn't really notice that Joe shed like a pack of Afghan Hounds. At first I found it very appealing to have a hairy man. It sort of satisfied all my bestiality fantasies. He was part dog, part horse, and part baboon, a dream come true for an animal lover like me.

The 91st day, I woke up and found more hair in my bed than on top of this beast's head. I'm not talking about a few strands.  It was equivalent to the floor of a beauty salon at the end of a long day. Chest hair, back hair, leg hair, private parts hair, and very little head hair. 

When I fully grasped the situation, I  invested in a dust buster. Every morning after he went to work, I'd peel back the sheets, grab the dust buster located next to the other small appliance next to my bed and sucked up the hairy critters.

I should have been saving this pile of hair, because the hair on his back, shoulders, chest, and other body parts were the only hairy areas he was left with when we split up. The hair on his head just quit working. I could have resold it to him for half the house at the divorce hearing.

Most men get paranoid about losing their hair at an early age, and Joe was no exception. He tried everything. Every time there was a new hair tonic lotion on the market, he'd be the first to call that 800 number and order a year's supply. If he had just rubbed my body parts as often and rigorously as he did the top of his head, we'd still be married today.

That's right, Joe is now my wasband. I don't see it as a loss. I see it as saving wear and tear on my dust buster.

Now I'm back into the dating scene, and things have changed. In the 70's and 80's I used to meet a man, dance, neck, pet, go to bed, and 90 days later I'd start all over again.

With my dates now, I have to talk about feelings, and where the relationship is going, and go for your HIV-LUNCH date. We go to the free clinic to get tested for AIDS, and have lunch and talk about how we should have done that before we had sex. A week later, we go for our results, and celebrate or throw up.

I teach a class called DateSmart. We talk about AIDS prevention. There's only one way to prevent AIDS, that's abstinence, not a popular option in dating. Only one class member has said she'd wait 'till her wedding day to have sex. Every man in her class crossed her number off the list of women to date. What man is going to wait until his wedding night to have sex with a woman? Is that realistic? That's like asking a woman not to have PMS during her cycle. Nice thought, but you'll never see that happen in your lifetime.

Condoms, a.k.a. rubbers, raincoats, the plague, are a topic men resist talking about. Ladies, how do you know if the condom you're carrying in your purse is the one that is going to fit him? Can you really look at a guy's nose, fingers, hands, or feet and know? What if he's had a nose job, and his new nose is a whole lot smaller that the one he used to have? Does his penis shrink too?

Do his fingers really tell you anything? Imagine this, you're on a date and you know the time is coming close to having sex, and you have to go condom shopping. On the date, you go to the movies, and in the middle of the movies, stick his finger in your mouth. Try to assess his penis size. Men come in five sizes: sub-compact, compact, luxury sedan, stretch limo, or OH MY GOD! 

Men know that women compare shoe size to manhood size. That's why men's shoe department  are always out of size 13,14, and15 triple D shoes. Even if a man is a size 10, he'll buy a size or two bigger so he can get more action. He'll never admit a small shoe size if there are beautiful women in the store watching him try on shoes. As he winks to the ladies, he'll say to the salesman, "I'll try a size12, even though it might be a little tight." It's no wonder men are walking around in thick athletic socks with their dress shoes. And we thought they were just copying Michael Jackson.

So how do you know what size condom to bring on a date? This is a touchy subject. How can you ask a man in advance? You can't! You have to go to the store and get all the varieties there are. But how do you know what's in the package without opening them up in advance? This is so important. Even men don't know what to look for in a condom. 

I once attempted to go to bed with a man who was a sub-compact (I didn't know), and he brought along a magnum size condom. He didn't know. The package said "Very Sensitive, not Very Humungous." It was a case of wishful thinking. When he unrolled the monster hot air balloon over the miniscule appendage, I asked if he brought along any of his friends to take up the slack. What was left, shrunk. This condom was bigger than this guy's hands and feet put together and 100 times bigger than you know what!

Why didn't he know what size he was? Because men are not realistic about their penis size. Imagine this, a sub-compact man goes into the drugstore looking for a condom. Does he even admit to himself that he needs a subcompact condom. No way. Do manufacturers market to these types of men. NO! Who is going to buy a condom whose package says, "Junior", "Tiny" or "Youth". (Youth mean underdeveloped penis in marketing lingo) or "guess what, you're smaller than the average man." That's what finger cots are for. (Condoms for fingers work well when you're in a pinch.)

A smaller man has to know what brand to look for. Sub-compact men need Asian sounding condoms, because we all know that Asian men have very small noses, fingers, and feet. Of course, the Asian man reading this is the exception. A condom with oriental writing is the perfect one for the sub-compact and compact man.

Lesson for men: Check out your size and try the condom on before you hop in the sack. You'll be glad you did.