Specifically, Tampax Pearl… “in the Green Box.” That’s what she required. That was my quest, my only quest: to find those and only those specific tampons. (In that green box? Are you fucking kidding me? Lots of tampons in green boxes… I discovered. Never mind…)

Mission Accomplished. No apparent casualties.

Now Men, I know what some of you are thinking… I will go even further: the box of The Pearl Tampons (in the green box—there must be some metaphor there.) was the only item in my shopping cart, naked they were, all alone. In a big ol’ shoppin’cart, just sittin’ there.

Did I try to cover ‘em up with some dead red animal flesh, some pound or four of ground beef, some Biker Mags? Did I try to repeat the scene from “Summer of Forty Two” with the kid tryin’ to buy condoms? Askin’ for sprinkles and…”Oh, by the way, gimme some rubbers while you’re at it?” -been there, did that one. No mas.

Naw.

Here is the reason: I am secure in my masculinity. I can purchase tampons for my woman. No sweat.

I also listen to Joni Mitchell and Janis Ian and I cry at movies (some movies anyway–RoboCop comes immediately to mind).

Point is, Guys Git Over It!

Go out and buy some tampons. The experience will set you free.