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“What on earth were you thinking?” I stare down at my dining room table covered in feminine products. Boxes of tampons, packages of pads, panty liners, menstrual cups, feminine sprays, and women’s underwear are scattered all over the surface. The dipshit bought women’s underwear. *insert facepalm
“There were way too many options. Like, how the fuck does a woman make a choice on what to use? And how was I supposed to know what to buy, Damien?” He gestures to the table. “At least now we can look at everything and make an educated decision.”
I shake my head, staring down at the floor. “All we needed was a few things, Jeffrey. Just a few. Tell me, how much money did you spend?”
Jeffrey huffs and then licks his lips. “Get this, man. Almost three hundred dollars!”
“What?” I shout. “That’s preposterous.”
He nods. “I know. This shit is not cheap, my friend. And to think, women have to buy these things each month, have to. Some options are cheaper than others, but the top-selling brand was the most expensive one.”
“And it all just goes in the trash, or gets flushed down the toilet.” Shocked, I stare down at the products again. I think we are in way over our heads here. How on earth are you supposed to sell this shit to women? Why do they pick one brand over the other? Is it always about cost? Comfort? The fucking packaging?
Jeffrey grabs one of the menstrual cups and opens it up. “What is this?”
“Do you not know how to read? It’s a menstrual cup.”
He rips open the package and holds it up to the light. “It looks like a shot glass.”
“I’d hate to be around and watch someone confuse the two, that’s for damn sure.”
Nodding in agreement, he sets it down and then grabs one of the tampons sitting on the table and opens it up.
“What are you doing?”
“Research.” He rips open the plastic and pulls out a plastic tube that is shiny and pink. “Jesus. What is this?”
“It’s a tampon, dipshit.”
A small plastic tube slides down from the main tube. “Whoa.” Then he pushes the small tube back up and the cotton piece expels from the top. “Fuck!”
“This is entirely too disturbing to watch.”
“This is crazy, man,” he says just as I reach for a tampon of my own, needing to experience this for myself—for research purposes obviously. But then the buzzer for my apartment interrupts my thoughts.
“Can you get that, man? It’s probably the food for when Charlotte gets here.”
“Sure.” Jeffrey drops the pieces to his tampon on the table and then moves behind me as my mind starts to spin and I open the package, extracting the tampon from within. But the voice behind me is not one I was banking on hearing just yet.
“What the hell did I just walk into?”
Spinning around, I see a wide-eyed Charlotte staring at me as her eyes bounce back and forth between the table, me, and Jeffrey.
“It’s, uh, not what you think.”
“I’m sorry. What do I think? I think it looks to me that either you two are men who experience man periods—which means they are, in fact, a real thing—or, you bought all of these supplies for me since you knew I was on my period and might need an item or two.”
Jeffery squirms to my side, his lips twisting up with disgust. But I don’t want this to look worse than it already does.
Thinking on my feet is one of my many talents, so my brain lands on a rebuttal faster than she expects. “What if we bought all of this to donate to a woman’s shelter, huh?”
Charlotte’s eyebrows rise. “Well, then I would say that’s pretty awesome since those places are always running short on items like these, especially underwear.” She moves to the table and grabs one of the thongs that Jeffrey bought, holding it up to the light. “Although, just so you know, I’m sure women in a shelter wouldn’t care about panty lines, but at least you have good taste.”
“I bought those more for me,” Jeffrey spits out, sticking his foot in his mouth yet again.
“Oh really, Jeffrey? You like a little butt floss?” Charlotte teases him, and I can’t help it, I fucking laugh.
“No! Fuck!” He reaches up and pulls on his hair. “I just meant that I liked them, like if a woman were to wear them, I’d think they’re hot.”
“Well, they are pretty,” Charlotte says, admiring the red silk. “I actually have a pair of these. But just so you know, thongs aren’t really period friendly.”
“How so?”
“You really want me to go on?” she asks just as the buzzer sounds again. Jeffrey moves to the door again, and even though I know Charlotte could give me some insight on the matter we’re discussing, this was not the topic I intended to talk about this evening.
“Maybe another time. Jeffrey here was just about to leave, and I’m going to put this stuff away.”
“Sure, sure. Kick me out.” Jeffrey walks into my kitchen holding a cardboard box full of brown paper bags. He sets the box on the counter and then moves to help me collect the items and put them into the second bedroom in my place. “We didn’t even get to test any of this out.” And then he turns to Charlotte. “Say, Charlotte. How do those tampons fit in—you?”
“What do you mean?”
Holding several boxes, he begins to attempt to balance them in his arms. “I mean, do you…how do you…does it hurt when you stick them in your, you know.” He widens his eyes.
Charlotte grins. “Jeffrey, you do know that tampons are way smaller than a penis, and those fit in my…you know.” And then she starts laughing, covering her mouth. “Oh, unless you’re sized more like a tampon…” She winces. “Then, I’m sorry for assuming.”
“What? No!” he shouts, but I just push him toward the room.
“Stop talking while you’re ahead, man.”
“I don’t have a small penis though!”
“I really don’t want to know how you were planning on testing out any of this,” Charlotte adds as we walk away from her, her face contorted as she moves over to the food.
“We’ll be right back,” I call over my shoulder, heading for the spare room. Jeffrey follows me inside. “What the fuck, man?”
“What did I do? I was just trying to get more information from a woman, you know…the people we’re supposed to be selling this shit to.”
Frustrated beyond belief, I set the items on the bed haphazardly. “You know what? I can’t even get into this right now.”
“It’s okay. We’ve got time, Damien,” he says, clasping me on the shoulder. “Take care of things with Charlotte tonight and we can reconvene tomorrow at the office.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“But if you get a chance to pick her brain about periods, don’t waste the opportunity.” He winks and then walks back out of the room as I follow him.
Charlotte is opening up the bags of food as we make our way back into the room. “What did you get?”
“Some pasta and salads from Tony’s down the street,” I reply.
Her face lights up. “Spaghetti and meatballs and the antipasto salad?”
I nod, surprised that she knew what I’d order. “Yeah, actually.”
“That’s the best dish there. I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d order one of my favorite meals.”
“Well, it just so happens to be my favorite too.”
Her face falls, surprised at our commonality as well. “Oh.”
Jeffrey clears his throat. “Well, I’m going to be going. You two have fun and try not to kill each other, alright?”
“I make no promises,” Charlotte replies, lifting the containers of food from the bags and placing them on the counter, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma as my mouth begins to salivate too. Fuck, I’m really hungry.
Jeffery chuckles and then moves for the door. “And just so we’re clear, my penis is definitely bigger than a tampon. See ya tomorrow, Damien.”
Shaking my head at him, I hold the door open for him. “Have a good night, man.” And then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the woman I never thought I’d ever be buying dinner for.
Now that Jeffrey is out of the room and all of the feminine products are far from my mind, I finally get a moment to take Charlotte in. She’s wearing black capris made of some type of stretchy fabric, highlighting her curves and that ass of hers I can’t seem to get out of my mind. A light pink tank top hugs her torso, and her long hair that I prefer down is thrown up in a ponytail that swings with each of her movements.
Her look is such a contrast to the business persona I’ve only seen her in so far, but part of it reminds me of what she was like before we left for college—the girl next door that I grew up with and secretly admired—not in the attractive sense, but for the simple fact that her confidence seemed to be unwavering. Seems she’s still packing pride underneath that tough shell.
But I’d die before I let her know that.
