Tag Archives: family planning products

Glo Column: The Things that Start with “V”

Viagra     Let’s face it; if you live in a house full of males the way I do, there are certain conversations that, no matter how delicately you approach them, are going to be…difficult. Over the years I have had to explain how babies are made, why the bed sheets are moist (even though no one wet the bed) and why it’s important to lock the bathroom door when you need a little “private time.” However, nothing compares to the day you have to tell your better half he may want to talk to his doctor about a certain little blue pill.

Without going into the highly personal events that led up to this discussion, let’s just say the time had come to have “The Talk.” Believe me, I didn’t want to. After all, we are still in the newlywed phase of this marriage. I only got my wedding dress back from the cleaners a month ago and it seemed awfully early to be having these kinds of problems but let’s face it: the man isn’t getting any younger. His over-the-road schedule is taxing and it’s only natural that it affects every other aspect of his life.

I tried to be subtle at first. I quoted a statistic I heard on a commercial which suggested 40 percent of males over the age of 40 have this kind of issue and it’s not as rare as one might think.

“Did you know it was that common?” I asked.

“Nope,” Mr. Oblivious replied, fixing himself a bologna and cheese sandwich.

After dropping a few more hints he refused to pick up on, I was deflated and in a moment of desperation, I made a spur-of-the-moment, ill-conceived decision that caused my cycle to go out of whack and left me in a state of panic for a week and a half. Once the scare passed, I informed him that I would never be so reckless again, not even to boost his fledgling “ego.”

“Look, I understand this is uncomfortable for you and I sympathize with that, but these changes are a natural part of life. Luckily, the whole thing can be solved medically and it’s really not a big deal, but you have to book the appointment and find out what a doctor can do for you,” I insisted.

“Fine,” he sighed limply, resigned to his fate. “I’ll schedule an appointment tomorrow.”

He did…and scheduled a vasectomy.

Folks, I could not make this up if I tried. The man scheduled a vasectomy! While I admit my solution also began with the letter “V” I assure you a vasectomy was not what I had in mind. When he told me the news, I blinked the way Boy Wonder does whenever I’ve thrown too much information at him. “Um…exactly why are you getting a vasectomy?” I inquired.

“You told me to,” he said.

Oh no I didn’t. I assure you that at no point in this discussion did I ever lobby for a vasectomy. First of all, why would I do that when I am in perimenopause? And secondly, how sick would I have to be to suggest the secret to extending his endurance begins with a sharp object?

For the life of me, I could not figure out how he had arrived at this conclusion. I mean, was he not present for the false starts and stops over the past few months? What did he think the problem was and more importantly, why did he think a vasectomy would solve it?

I replayed my words in my head and realized that although I never campaigned for the procedure, I never really said what I wanted. I danced around the subject with innuendo, but I was never blunt. I remedied that situation with a few choice statements that I won’t repeat them here. Trust me; I got my point across.

I doubt it will be the last time we have a communication breakdown, but hopefully the next misunderstanding does not come down to two words whose only similarity is a starting letter and are the difference between taking gold in the freestyle or merely being dead in the water.

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March Glo Column: Perusing the Protection

Protection    As a general rule, I am not one to lurk about the family planning section of my local drug store and certainly not with my 18-year-old son in tow. However, when the pharmacy’s printer suddenly went on strike during a routine pick-up, we were directed to a small enclave of standby customers clustered around a wall of products all promising Ft. Knox level protection with a cornucopia of kinky bonuses.

I’m telling you; it was an eye opener.

“What do you suppose they mean by ‘Fire and Ice’ sensations?” I muttered as Boy Wonder groaned quietly beside me. “I’m serious. Is that like putting Icy Hot down there? Lord, I don’t like that feeling on my shoulder, let alone a private part.”

“Hey, did you see that nice blood pressure machine over there,” the prude interjected, trying to divert my attention. “Why don’t you go get your blood pressure checked?”

I ignored him and continued to peruse the merchandise. Once upon a time, before intimacy was a matter of life and death and safety became the industry byword, product options were limited to a red box and a blue box. Now, thanks in part to the HIV/AIDS epidemic, a handful of other conditions and the cleverness of the good people at the Church & Dwight Corporation, there was a wealth of choices complete with a wide range of special effects. I’m not kidding. No matter what your deficiency, there is a product to compensate for it. Quite frankly, I don’t think that George Lucas had this many bells and whistles when he filmed the original Star Wars movie.

I discovered that depending on my mood, I could be pulsed, twisted, tickled, ribbed or, so help me God, “charged.” Electro shock therapy aside, there were boxes that boasted “extended action” (though exactly what is being extended remains a mystery to me), a “triple threat,” an assortment of fruity flavors, fun colors, two different sizes, several quantities and an ominous line of goods designed “For Her Pleasure.” I’m not exactly sure what is going on there, but I would love to tell the bozo behind that misnomer that there is not a woman alive who places the success or failure of her entire experience in a sliver of latex and unless that box also contains a bottle of champagne, a dozen roses and a massage, you clearly aren’t thinking about her at all.

The more I contemplated this area of retail, the more I realized that the industry leader remains a brand of products synonymous with a group of legendary losers. I am not sure who came up with that namesake or why millions of people seem to trust it but wasn’t a failed defense system the plot line of that tale? If I remember my mythology correctly, a group of warriors feeling rather cocky about their prowess went to sleep safe in the notion that their fortress was guarded against all unwanted invaders. However, when the opposing army penetrated their city walls sheathed in disguise, those goobers couldn’t protect themselves, let alone anyone else!

I pointed all of this out to my son and said that despite the distinctive helmets and a profile that looked great on the logo, perhaps naming something after those connected to one of the biggest security breeches in history may not have been the smartest marketing move in the world.

“Maybe not, but it’s obviously working for them,” he said. “Still, I see your point. It sure does seem like they backed the wrong horse.”

 

 

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