Discomfort times 12

Listening to: Underworld - Second Toughest In The Infants

I'm a happily married man; I have been for almost sixteen years now. I've not once had a thought of straying. So, why is it that going to buy condoms makes me bust out in shame-blushes, like I'm cheating? Shouldn't I happily saunter up to the counter, slap down my money, and order up my dozen?

Tonight, I got word that we were out, and that I should probably get some more. Being dutiful above all else, I went to the nearest mega-lo-mart.

Here's where my Y chromosome betrays me; I won't ask for directions. So I spend about five minutes wandering around the pharmacy section, looking for condoms fruitlessly. Finally, I get spotted. Of course it's not a male, but a cute lil' pharmacy assistant. The resulting conversation went like this:

"May I help you find something?"
(to shoes)"Yes. I'm looking for condoms."
"Sorry?"
(slightly louder, to the counter) "I'm looking for condoms."
"Sorry, I can't hear you."
"I'M LOOKING FOR CONDOMS!"
"Oh ... hold on ... (to pharmacist) WHERE ARE THE CONDOMS?"
"They're over that way, behind the hair color."
(I start walking that direction)
"Wait! May I help you find them?"
(to self) "No, I can't think of anything I want less right now."
(out loud) "No thanks."

Seriously, do they train pharmacy assistants to do that for sick kicks? Thanks for making me feel like a pervert. Sheesh!