Maturity

“Babe, I think we should take this relationship to a new level.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been together long enough.”

“Two and a half years is a while. And we’re both clean… yeah, I guess we could do it.”

“Are you sure you want to?”

“Yeah. Just so you know, I’m virginal, untainted, you know the like.”

“I know this. I also know we love each other and we are ready to take this giant step, romantically, physically and legally.”

“So do you have a condom?”

“No….”

“Why the hell not?”

“The bond will be closer, babe.”

“Ha, no. Have you ever been pregnant?”

“No, but neither have you.”

“Well your mother obviously wasn’t always on your back about how much it hurts and how sick she got and yada yada yada. Well of course it hurts! You have another human being popping out your vajayjay.”

“Vajayjay?”

“Oprah says it. So where’s the condom?”

“I don’t have one.”

“I have one in my bag. I think. Yeah, it’s in my bag.”

“Why do you have a condom in your bag?”

“In case any of the girls need one. And I’ve got gum, Band Aids, wipes, painkillers-“

“I get the idea.”

“Oh! Here it is! You know how to put it on?”

“Of course I do. What kind of man do you think I am? Don’t answer that.”

Pause.

“Why is it so funny looking?”

“Funny looking?”

“Yeah… it looks kinda, well, weird. Does it usually look like that? And you're holding the condom wrong. I thought you said you knew how to put it on? If you put it on like that, there’s no way you're putting that in me.”

“What do you mean wrong?”

“And is that massage oil? Are you trying to get me knocked up?”

“What’s wrong with massage oil?”

“It will make it burst dumbass! That’s it. Put your pants back on. There’s bound to be some sex-ed class going on.”