Post Modern Preparation

The year is 2006.  Three of my dearest friends and I went on a cruise to the Western Carribbean.  We hadn’t all been together since before the storm whose name I dare not speak, so being together was a big deal.  After we’d settled down and had our first dinner, we all piled into one of the rooms.  I was three glasses of wine in, when Roc’s slow and easy drawl broke in to change the subject at hand.

“Girrrrrl, guess what [her husband] gave me?”  She then produced a handful of condoms. We hooted and hollered and the jokes commenced.  It set the tone for a really great trip.

The other night, one of my girls from the cruise and I were going down memory lane.  Roc’s handful of foil is just as funny, almost five years later.  It also made me think of something else.

I don’t carry condoms.

It’s 2011. I’m a single woman in a major metropolitan area of reasonable attractiveness.  Yet I don’t carry condoms.  I use them of course.  But just to have one on hand, or to pass one on to a friend?  No.  Whenever the topic comes up, I insist that a woman should advocate for her own sexual health, and definitely voice the need for condom usage.  When pressed, I’ll go so far as to agree that a woman SHOULD have condoms.  But what I actually practice, is quite obviously different.  Why?

Because, penis just ain’t jumping out from behind the bushes at me like  that.  Sex is a carefully orchestrated act, replete with a complex algorithm of mutual attraction, expectations, and schedule allowances.  Oh. My. Lanta.  The schedule allowances.  You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if my next liaison required several Outlook calendar exchanges, or even a draft event proposal.  I remember once upon a time, dating a fellow (who has since become a good friend) and we were plotting out “the hook up.”  By the fifth proposed date that got the thumbs down, dating became “see you when I see you.”

So there are no condoms in my purse.  And maybe that’s the problem.  I’m not getting any action, because I put “no-action” vibes out into the universe.  I joke about not being a “closer,” but perhaps I’ve fallen victim to the self-fulfilling prophecy.  Once upon a time, my friend said “Maybe if you went from calling it a ‘no-no’ to a ‘yes-yes’, you’d get a little more action.”  Possibly.  I didn’t used to have this “problem,” if you want to call it that.  The truth is, I’m not actively campaigning right now.  It is at the point where even my male friends have pushed encouraged me to take a more proactive role in my love life.  I’ve even asked a couple of guys out.  Notice I didn’t mention any dates here, so we see how well that went.

Don’t think of this as a manifesto.  Don’t think of it as a mission for me to “get some.  This is simply me saying that if you ever find yourself a victim of my feminine wiles, and your burning up the highway to join me in making the beast with two backs…

Don’t forget to stop at 7-11. 


4 responses to “Post Modern Preparation

  1. “making the beast with two backs” has ALWAYS been one of my favorite metaphors for engaging in relations. Go get some protection, girl. And no, I don’t mean a .357 Magnum. Then again…lol

  2. Damn, now that I think about it. I’ve never carried them either. True story: my ex jumped out his 1st floor window, ran across our apartment complex to his boy’s house to get some. I guess he could have used the front door but how could he think with no blood in his head. LOL!

    • LMAO! That’s the thing. I have no issue with stopping the party on some “Oh I forgot” type stuff. I live quite close to a 7-11 homie, and mama ain’t birthin no mo’ babies.

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