Here’s a potentially amusing situation that could backfire like a dodgy blaster gun. Imagine this: your manly/nerdy self has been to a bar, hit on a smokin’ hot chick, wooed the pants off her and driven her back to your place. You guide her to the bedroom, slither under the covers with her and share a hurried and excited disrobing session. She asks if you have protection. “Yes, ma’am,” you reply, being a sensible lad, and reach into your pants pocket for your trusty wallet. You take out your wallet. You reach inside and find a condom. You remove the condom, place down your wallet, turn back to the patiently waiting lady, ready to “suit up,” and are faced with what can only be described as a look of repulsion and horror. Why this look? Because the woman you’ve just picked up, driven to your apartment, taken to your bed, stripped naked and sexually aroused is now looking into the vomit-tainted eyeballs of Jabba the Hutt. [Read more…]
