The Replacements

Posted on August 20, 2013


condomThis story is from Sam, a 27-year-old student from L.A., as told to Raz:

I went to a club with Jessica, a girl I’d been hooking up with. After a night of dancing, I assumed we’d be heading back to my place. But when I asked if she wanted to leave, she got a mischievous look on her face. “Well, actually my parents just moved nearby, to this great house, but they’re out of town,” she said. Then she added:  “They have a hot tub.” I was sold.

We get in a cab. And when we got to the (pretty awesome) house, we made a valiant effort to fool around in every room, especially the hot tub. When we finally made it to the bedroom, Jessica asked, “Do you have a condom?”

I didn’t. “Sorry,” I told her, “I thought we were going back to my apartment.”

“I think I have one,” she said, bolting out of the room. She returned, condom in hand, and we picked up where we’d left off.

Afterward, I made the mistake of asking, “So, where’d you get the condom?” There was that mischievous look again. She admitted it was her dad’s. Not wanting to think too hard about that one, I asked, “Well, do we need to replace it?”

“Probably,” she admitted. “It was the last one.”


So we walked to the CVS on the corner, with a Durex Warm Sensations lubricated condom wrapper in my pocket (for comparison). She insisted on waiting outside while I went in. But there weren’t any Durex Warm Sensations lubricated condoms on the shelf. I called her to tell her that.

“No way,” she said, “They get everything here. They’re obsessed with the rewards program.”

Then I spotted it, the 54 count, 5 variety Pleasure Pack, in brightly colored packaging, that, of course, included the Durex Warm Sensations lubricated condom. Apparently, Jessica’s dad had made it through a lot of condoms since the move.

Doesn’t it always seem that when you’re buying something really embarrassing, there’s a precious little old lady in the moving-painfully-slowly checkout line? Well, this particular checkout line, had three little old ladies, all staring judgmentally and shaking their heads at my giant rainbow-colored box o’ pleasure.

After fishing out the correct brand and replacing her father’s lone condom, I was on my way, more than a little bothered that Jessica didn’t seem at all weirded out by this whole scenario.

Now, what to do with the rest of the box?

Posted in: His Stories