Oh, this is awkward.

OK, so I'm just going to lay this out there. I'm a grown-up, I am. I can sit in on an informal business meeting. I can shake hands with the mayor. I can say the word penis without blushing. (Usually. Except now, when typing it in my blog made me blush. But mostly I can say it. Penis. There, I said it).

But some things are just awkwaaaard.

Like this morning, for example. Here I go, skipping into Walgreens to buy tampons. (See? I said tampons. G-r-o-w-n-u-p). Alright, so I wasn't exactly skipping, more like pouting and whining, but I was walking through Walgreens, nonetheless. And then I get to the aisle. You know, The Aisle. All those feminine hygiene products that, quite frankly, make me a bit uncomfortable. You put that where? That helps cure what? All I want is some tampons, Walgreens.

So I turn down The Aisle, eye on the prize, ready to grab what I need and bolt. And then, whoa. There's A Man in the The Aisle. A Man. In The Aisle. An intruder. He crossed enemy lines. Shouldn't he be searching for condoms? You know, big ones, because, hey, I am man. Or deodorant? Draino? Anything? Just please, Man, leave my tampon aisle so I can make my purchase in womanly peace.

Then suddenly I didn't feel so much awkward for me as I did for him, when I noticed he was perusing the wide variety of Pregnancy Tests. Shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. Glancing from side to side because, Oh My God, someone might see him buying a pregnancy test. He looked no older than myself, likely with a girlfriend at home, my age, wishing she was me, buying tampons, instead of sending her boyfriend to Walgreens to buy a prego test.

Moving on.

The aisles aren't very wide at Walgreens, and Daddy-To-Be was standing exactly where I needed to be. Crap. So I maneuver down the aisle, we make brief I'm-sorry-we're-in-this-awkward-situation-right-now eye contact, I blush, naturally, and search frantically for my favorite cheap tampons.

As I back up to get a better view, he bends down to pick up another test, and we collide. CRAP. We both mutter nervous apologies, I blush again, naturally, and go back to tampon-ing. He reads the back of an E.P.T. like a man studying for the SATs.

Finally I find what I need (two for $5!), and do an about face and scoot out of The Aisle. I find my way through Walgreens, pausing briefly to check out two-for-one toothbrushes (Walgreens, honestly, the deals!) and make a bee-line straight for the check-out. At the exact moment as Mr. E.P.T.


Is it possible, God, that I could just leave Walgreens, with my tampons in tow, and not have another awkward encounter?

"Oh, go ahead," I tell Error Proof Test. Lord knows he has an eager Am I Or Aren't I(?) lady waiting at home.

"Uh, no, it's OK. You go," he responds, probably trying not to set off the obviously menstrual female since, man, she's buying two boxes of super absorbency tampons.

And then I blush. Buy my tampons. And leave.