a dig in the ribs

I was standing in a queue at the supermarket the other day. I quite enjoy supermarkets. Something about them tend to make me a little silly. It's like an overcompensation for the potential shittiness I could develop being in a place full of people who seemingly have no fucking idea WHAT they are there for... but I digress.

I was standing in the queue, with a small basket of things for the checkout. Ahead of me was a man, probably in his early 40s, trim, with quite a nice bottom. That was what I noticed first. A good bum in jeans. His hair was salt&pepper grey but his skin was tanned and smooth. He was perhaps a little too cleanly shaven for my tastes... not a hair out of place. But still, attractive. I glanced down at the shopping he was unpacking for the checkout-chap. Deoderant. Rollon. Cottonbuds. He was obviously very keen on personal hygiene. There were a few other odds and ends. I got the distinct impression he was planning a night out. He had a certain fragility about him that I can't name, but on seeing his groceries I would guarantee he was separated.

And then I saw the clincher. A large box of condoms. Of the "for her pleasure" ribbed ribbed and more ribbed variety.

My stomach clenched. It flipped. I felt the familiar sensation. A giggle. It was flipping about like a landed fish, threatening to break free. I bit my lip, hard, and looked at the magazine rack.

There was nothing funny to be laughing at, but something about the vulnerability of this man and the hope and anticipation all wrapped up in crimson packaging with a smooth plastic seal caught me off guard.

The repressed giggle threatened to push past my diaphram (yeah yeah inopportune choice of words) and into my windpipe. It was beginning to feel like more than a giggle. It threatened to be a guffaw.

Now, I am all in favour of people buying condoms. The more, the merrier. I recall with great fondness my first condom buying shopping trip post-marriage breakup. It was a rite of passage. (The fact that most are slowly decaying in a bottom drawer shall not be mentioned.)

I don't know what it was that made me revert to a teenager, but it was irrepressable. I bit my lip 'til I thought it would bleed, and still the corners of my mouth twitched, threatening to betray the immature *nudge nudge wink wink say no more*.

The moment he packed away his things and I could move down to pay for my items was a huge relief, although I probably frightened the checkout guy with the huge "Joker-esque" grin that finally had broken free on my face.

Of course, the joke's on me. He got laid. I just got the giggles.