text: I was embarrassed. It’s a strange thing to say because out of all the personal items I’ve ever purchased from a public supermarket in my life (sanitary towels, underwear etc.) surely condoms would be a lesser chore. We’re all animals, at the end of the day and, presumably, a large number of the population have sex on some occasion. Most display it as an act of accomplishment, something to be proud of and boast about. So why is it such an awkward experience? For me, it was because I chose to try and achieve this milestone task at a rather askew point in my life. I was very much in love with someone who was very “meh” in his feelings towards me and I was doing everything I could to win his affections, even lowering myself to such degrading tasks that even he was too embarrassed to attempt himself. I was very insecure about myself. I wasn’t particularly attractive, nor did I hold myself very well, and I was convinced that every eye in that supermarket was on me, judging and mocking. If people saw me holding up condoms they’d know that I presumed to have some sort of sex life and they would shake their head sadly and think “poor girl. Maybe she’ll actually get to use those someday”. At least, that’s what I thought. In reality, my relative plainness probably allowed me to walk through most public places every day of my life without drawing half a stare from anyone. I had, purposely chose a busy, mainstream supermarket to do my shopping because of the presumption that it would be busy with folk not noticing what I was doing. Only when I got there, armed myself with a shopping basket and stepped through the doors did I realise my mistake. I was way too paranoid. I could basically hear the “wuuurrr” of a thousand CCTV cameras turn in my direction, following me through the aisles. I had planned to fill the basket with a few, inconsequential items in order to mask the main purchase. I strolled as carefree as I could, feeling my stomach twist and turn in response to the task that was lay ahead of me. I tossed some random vegetables into the basket, small priced things that, to me, portrayed an average shopping basket. And then I came to *the* aisle. They were stocked near the end, among shelves of vitamins, chap-sticks, exercise supplements and other over the counter medical things. There were three other people in the aisle already. An elderly couple with a shopping trolley, perusing the athlete foot remedies next to my target items, and a bored looking woman, eyes moving, disinterestedly, across the dieting aids. I stole a glance at the condom shelves and was shocked to see they were in short supply. Only a few choices remained, and there was my other moment of panic. Choices? In my absurd naivety, it hadn’t occurred to me that there was various....options when it came to condoms. There were Thin Feel, Extra Safe, Extra Lubricated, Extra Large, Micro Thin and a couple that were simply named Pleasure Me and Tickle Me. Underneath was a wider array of lubrications and gels and God knows what else. I turned my attention to the vitamins, directly across the aisle. I’ve never feigned so much interest in my life. I stood, for what must have been five minute, lifting box after box, reading the back, putting some back, returning, changing my mind, shaking my head....after about eight minutes the paranoia set back in. The old couple had left but the dieting woman remained. She had wandered over to the Deep Heat display but she was still there looking as bored as ever. Did we both have a common goal, here? Was she waiting for me as much as I was waiting for her. Could we both set aside our humiliation and help each other out in achieving what we wanted? Of course not. Would I be able to outlast her? I turned my attention back to the vitamins. What a ridiculously large choice of vitamins. I spotted a three for one offer and tossed the orange flavoured vitamin b supplements into my basket. She was still there. I changed tactics. I began to move, slowly, down the aisle, away from the condoms, towards the painkillers. Three boxes of cough syrup joined the other useless crap in now scattered around my basket. I crossed to the other side and held a tiny box of ear drops inches from my face, studying the fine print while watching the blurry shape of my rival move closer to the sex stuff. The ear drops went into the basket too and I had to admit defeat. Diet woman had stopped at the foot products and was idly scanning the various remedies, her body leaning closer to the risqué stuff but not close enough. I left the aisle and did another round of the store. When I returned my basket was now laden with stir-fry sauce, a sharing pack of chocolate buttons and a little jar of paprika. Diet woman had gone. No doubt she was half way home, her miserable face finally breaking into a smile of pure glee, her prize clutched in her idling fingers. There was a new couple in the aisle though. He was gazing around with the typical suicidal look of a man dragged out to carry the burden of useless haberdashery their partners claimed to need. She was on her knees, a phone glued to her head, discussing the unacceptable prices of face-cream, while tossing about packets of sanitary towels. I maneuvered into the next aisle, dropping some shampoo and deodorant in the ever increasing pile of unwanted trash in my basket. I crossed back into *the* aisle just as the couple were wandering away and a hippy-looking man was wandering in. I was back at my old comfort shelves. The vitamins hadn’t changed much, unfortunately. I couldn’t see hippy man, but I could smell him. He was being suspiciously quiet just out of eyesight. I dropped a few more vitamin packets into my basket and turned to investigate. He was browsing the condoms. All attempts at stealth were forgotten as I stared, open mouthed and wide-eyed, at this hairy, dirty, thin old man casually deliberating between two varieties of condom. I managed to steer myself away, pretending to be immediately excited by the chap-sticks (of which I basket-ed two), feeling a little ridiculous at the ease and, well, casualness in how he purchased his prophylactics. My palms were sweating. It was my turn. I moved back to the vitamins, chucking a few more in just for sake of routine. Hippy was gone but there was a new woman in the aisle, her attention fully focused on nicotine patches. I could feel the panic setting in, the cameras zooming on my face, the customers all waiting for this moment, when they could turn, in unison and smirk in mockery. I glanced to the nicotine woman, her hands full with boxes. I turned, finding myself stood directly and purposefully in front of my worst fear. There was no faking it now. To anyone wanting to look, there was no mistaking my purpose at that moment in time. My eyes went immediately to a bright red box and I made my choice. I stooped, weighed down and made awkward by my heaving basket of stupid stuff. My hands, all moist and trembling, landed on my prize and as I tried to pull the little box towards me I was met with resistance. Pure panic. I pulled harder and the entire display shelf, with each box slotted into it’s own little notch came towards me. I discarded the basket, letting it drop with a pretty audible thud and rattle of many little vitamins all moving inside their packets. With two hands I freed the Thin Feel and tucked it under my mountain of health pills. It hadn’t gone as smoothly as I had hoped but I had them; my key to continuing sexual activities. I almost ran to the checkout, that red box in my basket felt like a beacon, shinning through the green plastic, alerting everyone to its freedom. I was relieved to find the self-checkout almost empty and threw myself on the furthest station. With my condoms safely hidden I began scanning my other items, wondering if I could overdose on vitamins. When I had a good hiding pile in my bad I slipped the condoms out, scanned them in one, easy move and dumped them to the bottom of the bag. Success! The rest of the vitamins I processed with as much consideration as I had shown when I snatched them off the shelves. Suddenly, the screen froze. The smooth, mechanical voice of evil called out “Assistance needed”. It wasn’t my imagination this time. Everyone was looking at me. Everyone was turning to stare at the gormless girl with a box of vitamins held, guiltily in her hand, looking around furtively for a moment of release. She arrived in the form of a wrinkly staff member, muttering about the cold and pressing buttons on my terminal with total distaste. “Right it’s just an age check for the medicines. Have you bagged that last one yet?” She tugged at the bag, dislodging the shameful little red box of shameful things. She saw the condoms. She saw the ridiculous stock of vitamins. I don’t know which I should feel more embarrassed about. I stuffed the remainder of my decoy shopping into a second bag and made my escape, praying that the alarm wouldn’t squeal in anger at my attempt of fleeing. At home, I gazed over my shopping results. So much stuff I would never use. But I had the condoms. There was some victory in all of this, at least....until I checked the receipt. In my hasty retreat I hadn’t even spared a thought for the pricing of my nonsense buys. I hadn’t even noticed the total of my shop from hell, simply sticking my card in the reader and punching in my pin, giving my speedy admission to sap as much as was necessary from my account. I wasn’t wealthy but I was working and not doing much else so I had enough money to sow such carelessness over spending. The receipt was not to my liking. With a multibuy saving of five pound and eighty pence, I had, quite horrifically spent a total of £60.10. Vitamins are ridiculously expensive. It’s been almost two years. I still have those exact same condoms.