Kit Kats and Condoms

Aside from spending most of the day on Saturday feeling achy as all hell in the aftermath of Friday’s concert-going experience, the only story I have to tell is of a small, embarrassing moment at the Rite Aid in Merrimack, a moment which shouldn’t have been embarrassing at all. One of the requirements of this IVF process for us is that we are not allowed to have unprotected intercourse for the first eight days. It seems completely ridiculous—We’re trying to get pregnant, but we have to start using condoms again?—but the doctors know what they’re doing, so I decided we’re going to follow their instructions to the letter.

Which, of course, involved me going to the drugstore. I had suggested abstaining for eight days. Stef wasn’t so sure that was a good idea, or even a practical one. So, I went.

It had been more than four years since I’d crept up the aisle towards the prophylactics display, my head swiveling this way and that to make sure that I wasn’t being watched, my hand trembling as I reached out to pluck the small blue box from the peg it was hanging on, all the while waiting for snickers or shouting or some form of judgement. It had been more than four years, and I felt exactly the same. In fact, I felt even more nervous than I had back in the day. I had convinced myself that the cashier, seeing my wedding ring, would think that I was buying them for use with my mistress or something.

On the way to the register, trying to hide the box in my hands in such a way as to not draw attention to myself, I picked up a package of Kit-Kat Bites. Because, of course, you can never buy just condoms. Then you’d just look downright silly.

Okay, so I suppose it might be sillier to force yourself to buy something you don’t need just to feel better about a purchase you shouldn’t feel bad about in the first place. But, whatever. After all this agonizing, I needed the Kit-Kat Bites even more than the condoms.

At the register, I couldn’t even look the woman in the eye. I knew she was staring from my ring to the box. I knew she was shaking her head and planning to use a picture of me from the security camera to crosscheck on the Internet for my phone number so that she could call my wife and spill the beans about my cheating ways. I KNEW IT!

She rang me up and aside from the necessary pleasantries, we didn’t say a word to each other. I left with my Kit Kat Bites and my condoms and got back into my car. All was well again in the world.