My first experience with this took place in a bar, of all places. The barmaid, who was something between “casual acquaintance” and “close friend,” took me aside and asked me to make a run for her—seems that she was caught by surprise, the machine in the rest room was empty, and there were no women she knew well enough to cadge from. She gave me precise instructions as to what she wanted, and off I went. I do recall getting an odd look or two (this was in the late '70s), but the mission was accomplished.
After that introduction, buying for (now ex-) wife and assorted daughters (step- and otherwise) was no huhu.
(When I asked the barmaid why she picked me, she replied that I was the only person there she could trust not to make a rude joke or two about “helping with the installation.” I suppose that was intended as a compliment; anyway, I chose to take it as such.)
Yep, been making emergency runs to Wal-Mart for nigh on 30 years, now. It took a few years for my wife to be comfortable enough to actually make the request. At first, I needed detailed instructions (she actually drew a picture of the package!) but now I know what she needs.
Big box stores aren’t always the best place to buy 'em, though. I once made a non-emergency run for tampons and decided to cruise through the hardware section, just for the hell of it. While there, I remembered that my brother had borrowed a pipe wrench, then lost it, so I needed a replacement. Picked up a cheap set of screwdrivers for the pickup toolbox, too, and some sanding discs. The girl at the checkout counter had to work hard to suppress the smirk as she checked me out – either she figured I was over-compensating for buying the feminine product, or I had a really wierd home improvement project going. Anyway, as nonchalant as I am about it, I’m still grateful for the advent of self-checkout islands.
Sing it! I’ve sent my boyfriend to the store with these exact instructions: “Super Plus, 40-count, whatever’s cheapest.” It’s just for plugging a leak, fer pete’s sake. If I want to indulge my vagina, there are better ways to do it.
I have no problem at all. Nor did I have a problem with getting medicine for a yeast infection (Monistat or something?) and getting the female pharmacist to open up the cupboard so I could get it.
Buying tampons doesn’t embarass me, as I’ve stated. What did make me blush was the time I went shopping for bras for a friend who was working two jobs and couldn’t make the sale at VS. So in I walk.
Chirpy Salesgirl: May I help you, sir?
Me: (pulling out note) Bras. 36C, underwire, front-clasp.
CS: Right over here. Hemi-cup or semi-cup?
Me: 36C, underwire, front-clasp
CS: Lace or plain?
Me: 36C, underwire, front-clasp
CS: V6 or V8?
Me: 36C, underwire, front-clasp
CS: Stereo or Surround-Sound?
Me: 36C, underwire, front-clasp
CS: Battery or solar?
Me: 36C, underwire, front-clasp. Look, lady. Just give me two bras and stop trying to make me look like an idiot, ok?
CS: <smirk>
Me: You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
CS: Actually, yes. This is a brave thing you are doing.
Me: (flees into the night clutching a bag with 2 36C, underwire, front-clasp bras in it. 1 black, 1 tan)
Apparantly I did good, because I was amply rewarded for my efforts!
I think my husband told me once that he went to the store to get pads for one of his daughters when she started her first period, so I’m sure he’d get me what I needed. I just have never sent a man for them in my life - I guess I have this idea that, even though I think I know what I want, I could find a new product I’d like to try instead. It’s happened more than once.
I gots “Natural Women” (natural and organic feminine care), “Natracare” (more of the same), “The DivaCup” (Dopers need no introduction to this) and…
…“Caesar Salad Bowl” (Ultimate Large one piece Wood Bowl). Whisky Tango Hotel Foxtrottity Foxtrotting Foxtrot? :eek:
(I am secure enough in my masculinity to buy the things, and also secure enough in my masculinity that impugning it to get what you want never. ever. works.)
My husband doesn’t even like to buy cigerette’s for me because my brand has a very feminine sounding name :rolleyes: He will buy them, but whines about it.
I’d guess that if I was absolutely physically unable to go to the store he would get tampons if I asked, but personally thats something I prefer to get myself. I’m picky about certain types/brands. There are so many choices I’m sure he would grab the first box he came to and bring me home something incredibly crappy.
But since I’ve joined the ranks in this other thread, it isn’t much of an issue anyway.
You know. From cotton grown without artificial fertilisers, pesticides, etc., lovingly hand-picked by happy smiling brown-skinned people who receive a fair price for the fruit of their labours, and so on. For the ethical vagina.
In my wanton youth, I would send anyone to pick up my birth control pill prescriptions. Friends, step-father, brother, whoever was headed that way. I am certain the fine folks at planned parenthood wondered why their was such a revolving door for picking up my pills.
I needed to stop by the store on the way home one night because my husband wanted some dip. That sucked.
I wonder how much space a lifetime supply of tampons would take up.
BTW, I had just started a new job, my period started at work, I was unprepared. None of the machines worked. I asked one of the few girls I knew, she hooked me up. The funny part? She was pregnant but wasn’t telling anyone yet. It was also my last period before I got pregnant. So, you folks out there that are infertile? Borrow a tampon from a pregnant chick!
To the OP: Tampons-gfactor delivers! The title says it all. I have no problem shopping for tampons. I don’t need color-coded instructions (although absorbency, style, and brand preferences are helpful). And I really don’t give a crap what the clerk thinks about my reasons for acquiring them.
I’ll do it.
Hell, I already have… somewhat.
I’ve put this story out on these boards before… but for those who’ve come in late…
GrizzWife and I are on vacation; and she believes that she might be pregnant… or possibly getting ready to start her period. So, sends me out for “supplies”.
I’m standing in line at a chain drug-store and the two guys in line behind me (one has a Penthouse magazine in hand) can be heard snickering and making reference to the tampons I have on the counter.
I turn to them and say “Whatcha got there?.. Penthouse?”
One of the guys says “Yeah”… in a what’s-it-to-ya tone of voice.
I point to the tampons and say “I’ve got a REAL woman!”
