Much of yesterday was taken up with helping a friend move from her flood-damaged house to a new place. Hundreds of hastily packed boxes locked in a semi-sized storage unit unceremoniously dumped on the street in front of her house with as much salvaged as possible. Her house, three weeks after the flood, is still clearly a disaster and where there used to be walls you can now see through the back of garage and through the room behind it into the backyard. There’s still s a long journey ahead to get her old house back to normal.
Of the three kids, two were involved, but A-, only a month away from turning 17, stayed home to work on her school assignments and because she wasn’t feeling great. No worries, the rest of us put in a solid few hours of shuttling packages and then being a part of the virtual bucket brigade, moving the boxes from car to garage to basement in the new house.
About an hour into it, A- sent me a text message “Can you get me some more Midol, please?”
Now I don’t pretend to understand all the nuances of women’s menstrual cycles — you can spare me the details, thanks very much! — but I know enough to recognize that when a woman’s asking for Midol and saying she feels poorly, there’s a cycle involved, and it ain’t the kind with pedals and skinny tires. 🙂
Then the ante went up:
“But I need pads.”
Ah jeez, now we’re not just talking Midol, which is pretty benign on the guy-having-to-get-feminine-products scale, but now real feminine hygiene products too.
But what’s a single dad going to do?
When I got to the market I realized I needed to ensure that I bought the correct products so I texted her box photos based on my memory of what I’d purchased in the past, as you can see in the included SMS back-and-forth.
I did try to imagine what women on that aisle were thinking about a guy who was taking pictures of these products, then standing around waiting for a return text message before proceeding. Hopefully not “weirdo!” but who knows.
As the text message sequence demonstrates, mission accomplished. Phew!
And I bought a really big box. I don’t want to have to do that again any time soon, thank you.
Then again, it really wasn’t much of a big deal. Slightly embarrassing? I guess. But if that’s difficult, really, you’re going to be dead in the water when it comes to the really tricky issues, like talking with your teen about sex, drugs and alcohol.
So in some sense, it’s probably good practice learning how to focus on the need rather than being worried about what other people are thinking about or assuming.
Now, tell me true, fellow Dads, have you had to buy items of an intimate nature for your daughters or partners, and if so, how’d that work out? 🙂