Sorry to be jumping into this thread so late, but allow me to wax nostalgic for a few.
The epitome of condom development was achieved in the late 1980s while I was in college.
Prior to 1987, I had experimented with several brands of condoms. Like most young men, my first sexual foray was with Trojans. They’re horrible condoms, but they have excellent market penetration. These were the “enz”, lubricated, and they stank like a tire fire. Unfortunately, I discovered in talking about condoms with other lovers that several women are allergic to the proprietary lubricant this variant uses.
Anyway, I fairly quickly quit using them even before making that discovery because, the second I ever slept with a girl, the damn condom broke. I didn’t realize it at the time. I just thought, “Well, THIS is feeling a lot better than it did a minute ago.” Oops. Luckily, other than a week and a half of unbridled terror, there were no ill consequences.
So, for the next few years, I vacillated between brands, finding Ramses Extra to be the most acceptable. Then, in late '87, I stumbled upon the greatest condom ever made. It was (ironically) also a Trojan product, but they apparently put some thought into this. The brand was called Mentor, and Shazam!, was it ever wonderful.
First of all, the sizing was perfect. Second, the Trojan people apparently had heard about fingernail contact being a problem with breakage. These bad boys had, are you ready, an APPLICATOR. The condom and the applicator (which was either a very soft plastic or a very thick latex) unrolled together. Girls actually liked to help you suit up because it felt so neat.
The lubricant was contained between the condom and the applicator; so a little hand work was required to fully lubricate the thing, making condom wearing suddenly not just necessary, but pleasant.
As an added bonus (which may not sound like one at first), there was an adhesive section at the base end of the condom. I know, I can hear you yelping out there, but it was akin to the adhesive on Post-It notes, not Krazy Glue. That way, after you finished, you could stay inside for a bit without worrying about slippage. Obviously, if you hung out until you completely deflated, nothing short of duct tape is going to keep the condom situated, but if you (like me) like to stay inside for a minute or so afterward, this was THE only reasonably safe way to do it with a condom.
The only downside was, Mentors cost about twice as much as the standard “love glove” garden variety condom. I was MORE than willing to shell out the extra coin, even as a starving college student for all the pluses.
Then I got involved in a long-term monogamous relationship. Condoms were no longer a necessity. YAHOO.
A few years later, though, life worked out the way it does and I was back on the circuit. I hunted drug stores, grocery stores, 7-11s, sex shops and every other place I could think of looking for these damn things. Not only could I not find them, nobody had ever HEARD of them.
I knew I wasn’t completely crazed. No way did I hallucinate this masterpiece of design. I have to admit, though, that I did call up an old girlfriend with whom I had parted on fairly good terms just to get a confirmation from her that, yes, we used Mentors. She probably wouldn’t have agreed with the first statement in this paragraph by the time we hung up.
I then decided to fall back on the good old Ramses Extras I used in my pre-Mentor days. Either their sizing or mine had changed in the five years or so since then. Tight. Binding. Uncomfortable. Breakable. Useless.
Since that didn’t have good results, I of course then went through the ritual of trying different brands. Magnums were just too big that I didn’t feel comfortable with them. Relaxed fit is NOT the feel you want in a rubber.
I settled finally on Durex extra sensitive, and they worked fine, although I now understood why other guys complained so long and loudly about having to use condoms. Still, not worth dying for.
After a few different jobs, I ended up as the product copy writer for an online adult merchandise site. If you think that sounds like a dream job, write product descriptions for 140 different pink 6" x 1.25" real-feel jelly filled multi-speed vibrators and make them all sound unique and interesting. If you can do it, you’re more creative than I.
At any rate, this company also had physical stores, one of which contained my office. On my way out one night I was going past the condom rack and lo and behold what did I spy but a rack of Mentors. I bought them all. At the 50% discount employees received, it was just like buying a 24 pack of any other condom. Sheer paradise, I tell you.
Of course, when luck cuts in your favor like that, you know it’s not long before it turns back and just CUTS you.
A couple months after that, I noticed we had not re-stocked them. I had a few left, but didn’t want to have a lull. I asked our condom buyer (How’d you like THAT for a job title) when we were getting more Mentors.
Brian, the buyer, a nice old guy looked me squarely in the eye and said, “We’re not. They were discontinued by the manufacturer.” My howl of agony made it sound like we had opened up a “Try it before you buy it” section in the S&M department. I asked him why, and he responded that apparently not too many guys were willing to pay double for benefits of Mentors. These are the same guys who, to paraphrase someone else, would rather have a keg of Pabst Blue Ribbon than a bottle of 18 year old Glenmorangie. Troglodytes.
I called the distributor, the manufacturer and everyone else I could think of. I begged. I pleaded. I threatened. I groveled. Nada. I then had the problem of deciding whether or not to just keep using them until they were gone or to buy a standard pack and save the Mentors for “special occasions”, added help or whatever.
The fact that there were only two months until the expiration date answered that question pretty easily.
I know I’m about 1000 words past making a long story short, but I still have one of them. Unopened. Original package. They’re gone forever as a product, but for one brief shining (or rather “glistening”) moment, one man found his one perfect condom.
Now, however, I’m forced to wander the earth using the standard tinfoil-packaged monstrosities as everyone else, a tragic figger of a man who knows that once upon a magical time, life was made better by design.
