Slut Shaming, Miscommunication And Amazing Sex

Back in the Saddle

I saw George again. A week had passed since we'd last been together when I received a text from him during rush hour which read, "You must be in need of a massage later".


I will never decline his invites (as long as I'm free) due to his track record of sexing me down and his actual massages. We settled on the when and the what I should bring with me:  massage oil -- and condoms.

I'm working with a good stash so that wasn't an issue. The issue came moments later.

Armed and Protected

Back in the Saddle

My current condom stash with your occasional lube thrown in

I'm a condom-carrying member of the sexually active.


As I packed my bag before heading out for the night, I made sure my chapstick and lotion were accounted for, business cards and gum, threw out old receipts and flyers and made sure I had regular and extra large condoms, lubricated and not or ultra sensitive as Lifestyles like to call theirs. I also throw a couple Durex in there to give my Europeans a piece of home. The signature Magnum gold is a given. I haven't mastered female condoms yet (those things are slippery!) so I leave those home for now. I carry condoms in the same compartment with my pads and tampons. Just makes sense to me to keep all the Kitty products together.


Since I started having sex, I've always carried condoms. During my recent drought, my condoms taunted me in my bag, but they stayed put. I remember the sideways comment an ex made about why I was still carrying them even though we were together. "Dude, because we're fucking," I wanted to say but the young Abigail just screwed up her face and rolled her eyes.