I know that sometimes I get the devil in me and feel like causing a bit of mischief, but I think that’s fair enough and we all do it at some time or other. And when you are in one of those moods there is nothing better than sending your respective other out to buy you female products.
I first experienced this with first-boyfriend, when hanging out with my sister. He called to let me know he was going to the supermarket (innnnnnnteresting) and to see if there was anything I needed picking up. A chocolate orange? No, forgot, diabetic. Must be more careful. So I threw it out there to my sister, who responded “I need some tammehmehmeh” trailing off into a mumble. “Tampax”, she mouthed at me. Why are you mouthing?! He cannot see you. So I got back on the phone with instructions “tampax please. Green box, flowers on”. Why do they put flowers and other happy things on the box of sanitary products? It’s like they are acknowledging that if anyone comes within three feet of you you are trained to kill, and perhaps not in your most amused of moods, and then they are parading kittens and puppies and flowers in your vicinity. Not cool.
Anyway, the response was, to say the least, not amused. He whinged that not only was he not happy with picking them up for me, picking them up for my sister was all the more embarrassing. Build a bridge, get over it!
When living with ex-boyfriend, I had a similar problem. The weather was horrible and I felt like someone was trying to pull my internal organs out through my belly button (yeah.. let’s go with belly button). The cats were throwing themselves at the fridge through hunger and we also needed feeding. Short straw was drawn (“but my tuuuuuummmmmmmy hurts. But my baaaaaacccckkk hurts. But it’s raaaaaaaaining. But I WANT A BATH!) and he headed off with strict instructions of procuring me some tampax. “Do you desperately need them? Can you not wait till you can go? Can you not look like you are going to cry please? Okfinei’llgetthem!!”
But the funniest thing by far is being in the female aisle when a man is on a mission. You see them coming, like lambs to the slaughter, meandering hopelessly down the aisle, looking like they may be carrying a bomb. They stop and you wonder whether you will be on the news tomorrow as a victim of a supermarket terrorist attack, and then they gingerly reach for a box. Oh phew! They’ve just been sent out by the missus.
There are three types of male sanitary shopper; the on-the-phone, the smash and grab, and the hoverer. On the phone cannot purchase anything without approval and you can hear the girlfriend on the other end of the line “left, left, left, up a shelf. Does it say tampax? Then its tampax. Pink box? Sorted.” The smash and grab loiters in front of the products for what seems like an age, and then a hand shoots out and in one swift move grabs something and puts it in the basket, and makes off at speed. And the hoverer, like smash and grab, will loiter forever and then leave, defeated.
So come on guys, if your other half asks you to nip to the shop for girly bits, there’s no point in putting up a fight. Experience would tell me that she will normally win, so you might as well smile sweetly and earn a few brownie points. After all, if you bump into someone you know in the lady aisle, what do you think they think you are going to do with them? Exactly.