This story focuses around two of my personality traits, the first is that I like to be ready for any occasion. I have a fear of being caught without something that later proves to be imperative. For this reason I over pack where ever I go and my handbag would be lighter if I took everything out and replaced them with bricks. For example an average day in the life of my handbag would be carrying around a purse, two books (in case I finish the first one), some paper, two pens (a fountain pen and a ball point) a spare ink cartridge for my fountain pen, sun cream, hand cream, lipstick, lip salve, plasters, tissues, keys, mints, tampons, painkillers, a bottle of diet coke, my rail card, my oyster card, my ipod, my phone and some headphones. If I am going out in heels I am also guaranteed to have a pair of flat shoes in my handbag too. And this is just on a normal day. Like a boy scout, I am prepared for any emergency. I can cope with any crisis (though thinking about it I should probably purchase a mini torch and a set of screwdrivers). I like being this way, slightly neurotic I know, but it puts me at ease.
The second thing about me is that I am one of the many people out there, who in awkward situations, will say anything to fill the silence. I think most people can understand this. As a historian, a lot of the things I say are carefully considered, I like to think things through. But some things just come out. Everyone in the world does this!
So there comes that awkward time when two people who have decided to spend the night together, have got home, got to bed, removed a certain about of clothing, done some kissing, and then being very sensible people (for as you know I aim to be sensible in all things at all times) know they cannot precede without introducing protection into the equations. I have always found this a rather tricky and perplexing situation. For what does one say? Both of you know what you are doing without it being said, there is no need for a conversation that goes 'please stop touching me for a minute because I am going to get a condom from my handbag because I neither want to have your baby or contract gonorrhoea or any other nasty diseases you could potentially be concealing'.
But during the actual act of rummaging round your handbag, with what do you fill the silence? In this particular occation I was quite worried that while I was ungracefully stretching about three meters for my handbag, the man in question might catch his first and only glimpse of my naked backside (In my head be had clamped his eyes tightly closed, this made me feel better).
So as I mentioned before my handbag was prepared for any occasion and I knew that my purse contained what I was looking for (it had in fact probably been carrying around the same one, waiting, since about 2008) but finding it in my handbag and then in the purse took rather a long time (all the while I am horrifically stretching, getting a little panicky) and for a second all I can see in my purse is bloody stamps! I write letters much more than I have sex so I'm always in need of a stamp.
And that was when I said it,
'I'v got some stamps'
If we re-look at the actual situation from LiF's point of view. One second the girl he has come home with is getting a condom out of her bag, thus sealing the deal that he is going to get some and she has returned from hanging off the side of the bed talking about one of the least sexual things in the world, stamps.
He started laughing. Hysterically. I started laughing.
'Why on earth would I want a stamp' he said wiping away tears of laughing.
'I don't know, but I'v got loads if you do'
He was laughing so much that the whole original purpose of me going through my purse was put on hold for a significantly large amount of time.
'But why did you say that?' he just kept repeating over and over again. And I still have absolutely no idea.
I tried to kiss him at one point to get him to stop laughing. It didn't work, he told me he needed a few minutes to recover. For a while I thought I had blown all my chances and was considering just giving up, getting my pyjamas on and turning the light off.
When I awoke the next day the offending condom packed was sat at the head of my bed. I was about to remove it when I got distracted and left for work.
While at work the fashion designer couldn't help but ask what all the laughing had been about.
'It was crazy laughing' she said, 'what on earth was he doing?' She had assumed that it was him that had done something silly and we were laughing at him. I told her the truth, 'But why did you say that?' she asked. I shrugged.
When I got home it struck me that the condom wrapper was gone. I found this very bizarre. LiF did not strike me as someone who would clean up after himself.
I found it two days later when I was changing my sheets hidden under a pillow. I never asked him why he felt he needed to hide it under a pillow. I would still quite like to know.
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