Thirty-six condoms. Three weeks. One clogged toilet.

My sensual novella began the summer before college. My boyfriend pressured me into buying the condoms this time – an awkward experience we both dreaded. On this day, I designated the local CVS Pharmacy as my contraceptive dispensary of choice. I walked into the brightly-lit building, unsuccessfully trying to project an air of confidence to mask my fear of judgement. I darted to the back left corner of the CVS, walking toward the aisle labeled “Family Planning.”

I scrutinized the aisle, carefully examining the bountiful collection.

Durex Extra Sensitive Ultra Thin, Lelo Hex Re-Engineered Luxury Condoms with Unique Hexagonal Structure, Trojan Her Pleasure Ribbed Condoms.

I settled for the Trojan 36 Variety pack. It’s hard to regret variety. But as soon as my hand touched that box, the number 36 seemed to double in size and the room shrunk in half. I grabbed some lollipops from the neighboring aisle in an attempt to cover up the elephant in my hand.

Too bad I didn’t realize those lollipops were “Sore Throat Relief Pops” until the 50ish-year-old woman checking me out let out a concerning mumble I decoded as “Jesus.”

I guess I should’ve read my uncomfortable CVS encounter as a bad omen, but I went about my plans as usual, finishing up the box in about three weeks.

A few days after my boyfriend and I proudly disposed of the box, he got a call from his dad. Something about how his bathroom’s pipes had been clogged and that he planned to get a plumber to check it out. We immediately looked at each other, mouths open, knowing exactly what was clogging the pipes.

Twelve ribbed, 10 warming and tingling, and 14 ultra thin condoms.

It had been his idea to flush them, but I was the one who would never be able to look his parents in the eyes again after they discovered what the … blockage … was.

After some convincing, my boyfriend told his dad to wait on paying for a plumber and that he could fix the problem himself.

After one hour of DIY plumbing videos on YouTube and some praying to the same Jesus that the CVS cashier prayed to for me, we were able to unclog the pipes and avoid the unbearable awkwardness. So the moral of the story, ladies and frat boys, is don’t flush your condoms!

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