I distinctly remember wanting to melt into the couch at my friend's house the first time we were in mixed company (read: Freshman date) and a tampon commercial came on.
The resultant snickering and red-faces explained everything a casual observer would need to know about the girls in this situation: we couldn't even talk about Tampax with our boyfriends, much less keep a straight face about S-E-X.*
Tonight, I realized the tampon commercial has evolved. The new Tampax? Anything having to do with Erectile Dysfunction.
Apparently a bunch of dudes who like the National Geographic Channel were SUPPOSED to be the target audience for this one. Yet, tonight, right in the middle of learning how multi-million dollar yachts are moved from Genoa to Florida in the middle of hurricane season, all three of our boys, Mike and I became the demographic.
At first, I held my breath, for what I figured was the inevitable "What is erectile dysfunction?" I guess the scenery was so breathtaking that the boys didn't even notice the diarrhea-mouthed announcer, who was blathering on about all the side effects.**
Then, the inevitable phrase entered the room "THE FOUR HOUR ERECTION".
I swear the following happened exactly the way you read it:
Big announcer voice: "Should you experience an erection lasting more than four hours, contact your doctor." Pause.
Filling the pause was The Babe, who was sitting on my lap, then turned his head, and planted a huge kiss on my cheek. And said, without a hint of sarcasm or wit, in the funniest comeback to the four hour erection ever "Or, you can just kiss your Momma."
I cracked up. And I looked at Mike, who just shrugged his shoulders and said, "The boy's got a point."
Off the checklist of things to worry about regarding The Babe? Oedipus Complex.
*Which, incidentally, we WEREN'T having. Thank goodness.
**Subcontext of the message? "Yeah, you might die from our little cocktail drug of love. But, hey, you'll die a HAPPY man!"
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