Always

What the fuck am I doing here? There is no way in hell I should be doing this. Fuck this, I'm turning around right the crap now.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Ok, no problem, I can do this. I promised my wife that I would go and so I am going. I just wanted to get out of the house for a little bit. I thought that I would go return a movie, maybe drive aimlessly about town for a while. Just some fresh air that doesn't stink of baked gold fish mashed with day old apple juice.

A fatherly walkabout, maybe go a little native and take off my shirt for any stray ladies that might be passing through town.

That plan got shot when Hossmom handed me the list of things that I had to get at the grocery store. So here I am hoping beyond hope that perhaps a meteor will actually strike the store. That's right, I am actually wishing for extra-terrestrial carnage so I won't have to do what I'm about to do.

I've been with my wife for 14 years and I have weaseled my way out of this for the entire 14 years. It was a Cal Ripkin like streak. It was unbroken with a couple of close calls where I had to fake death but I got out of it.

Now it's over and I'm walking through the store looking for the feminine hygiene aisle. God Dammit. Crap. Shit. Crap.

Where the hell do they keep this stuff anyway? Honest to God, as I'm walking through, I can't ever remember seeing an aisle that my wife described to me as being there. She promised it was. Hell, I do the shopping every week and I have never seen this aisle. But there it is and I turn into it.

There are 5 women currently in the aisle perusing the products that are currently for sale. Crap. Shit. Crap.

For some reason I was hoping that this aisle would be deserted and I could sneak in and out and get what I had come for. No such luck because Karma has decided to kick me square in the balls.

Look, I know the argument for this, of why I shouldn't be embarrassed. The words "maturity" and "natural" come into that argument. But there is not a man alive that doesn't feel the same way as I do right now as I quickly do a head fake like I accidently turned into the wrong aisle, so sorry ladies, I was just looking for the milk.

I remember once as a kid I would throw stuff in the toilet just to pee on it. It was awesome. And you know what, it's still cool to pee on stuff. That's what you are dealing with here ladies, all guys are still basically just 10 year olds snickering in sex ed class and then go out and pee on stuff. It's just now we shave and are a much better aim. And I wouldn't have been doing this when I was ten and I don't want to be doing it now.

I wonder around a bit, go check the special on chips on aisle 5, make a stop at the bakery for a free cookie and then head back to the special aisle Mordor. The five ladies are gone but now it's a mother/daughter team and an older lady that reminds me of my own mother. No fucking way, let's go check out the toys that my daughter plays with. Maybe I'll throw a ball at a wall or find the meat section and punch some cow like Rocky.

This pattern continues for a pretty good while. Leave, come back to find some female, too embarrassed to enter, leave, come back to find more females, leave to go look some hot chick in Redbook, come back.

This can't last for ever, got to man up and get what I came for. This time there are only 2 women there, stocking the shelves. I figure this is as good as it's going to get as they don't remind me of my mother, my sister, my wife or any other female that I may know.

I enter the aisle and am overwhelmed by the selection. I've seen fat man buffets that have had less to choose from. I look at the list that my wife gave me to make sure that I get EXACTLY what I'm supposed to get. However, Hossmom scribbles like a rhino that has just been given meth and I can't make it out.

As a husband, this is something that I know I don't want to fuck up because I will be paying for it for the rest of my life. It's the same reason why I never buy clothes for my wife and why I highly recommend none of my male readers do either.

Here is the reality of clothes buying for your wife:
If you buy a size too big then your wife automatically assumes that you think that she is fat. If you buy a size that is to small your wife assumes that that is the size you wish she was. And if you actually, by some miracle of the almighty, buy the right size, she thinks that that you are having an affair because there is no way you pay enough attention to her clothes to know her right size. Basically, you're fucked. A no-win situation.

And that pretty much sums up my current predicament.

Infinity, Ultra Thins, Night time, day time, water skiing, seriously--what the hell man. I shouldn't be here.

I realize that there are some guy readers that may have no idea what the hell I'm talking about. You sir, are single and I applaud you. I'm not going to make this any clearer than I am now. Just turn off your computer and go play some sports.

I feel like I've been staring at my selection a little to long. I have no doubt that by now the two females behind me think I am nothing but a massive perv and if they started slugging me while calling for the police, I would totally understand. When a mother of two walks up I take my best guess and just throw it in my little hand basket and run away like I just saw the T-Rex from Jurassic Park in my side view mirror.

I'm hyperventilating by the time I get out of the aisle. Almost must done, thank you Jebus. I look at the rest of my list. Cranberry juice and Oreo's.

Aw come on man, seriously?!

I get everything I need and begin to scope out the check out lanes. I have a strategy for this. I need a line that is fast moving that barely has any people in it. Do I want a guy checker or a girl checker? Both could be equally as bad. I rule out anyone under the age of 30 as well figuring that a teenager would just start giggling as soon as I put everything on the counter. I decide to go a male checker hoping that they won't see any connection between the Cranberry juice, cookies, and the other product I have.

I'm in luck, they just opened a new lane, it's a dude, a little younger than me but not much. I run over an elderly gentleman to make it first in the line. I'm praying to god that there will be no price check moment. If there is, I'm completely ok with knocking the checkout guy completely on his ass before he even can turn the microphone on. That's another reason to pick a guy.

He rings me up and it goes smooth. He asks me if there will be anything else. I want to say "yes, I need guns and ammmo, something to help me trim my manly beard, a bumper dumper, and perhaps all the nudie mags that you have in the back." I want to say anything that makes me appear to be all man. I have no idea why. I know that this is just butt-ass stupid but I can't help it.

I almost want to explain it to him. I want to tell him my total life story, starting with how I like to pee on things, and end right up at this current moment so he can see how I got here and that I am not a sicko perv that likes to cruise the feminine hygiene aisle.

"Nothankyou." I say and turn to leave.

"Would you like your receipt?" he says.

I just keep walking. Don't look back, don't look back, never ever look back.