Profilactically

This is a conversation I had with my mother today.

"Johnny, what happened with you and your girlfriend?"

Note that she has asked me this 17 times this week.

"I'm not sure. I don't think we're together, but maybe we are. But probably not."

"But I liked her"

Note that my father convinced my mother that my (now) ex and I should never get married because the strain of bearing children would cause her to die (because she has a "bad hip")

"I don’t know mom, sometimes people grow apart, I have options I suppose."

"Did you wear the condoms?"

Oh no...I bit my bottom lip at this because I don't know what the normal reaction to this question is supposed to be. I wasn't laughing, I was just in an awkward situation. I looked up at the ceiling for guidance, but God apparently hates me, and wasn't there. This pause, (on my part) only lasted mere seconds for she continued.

"In my day, the condoms weren’t good. Now, they are good. You have to wear them."

My lip is bleeding. I can taste the bitter blood in my mouth. This is by far the worst conversation that I have ever had in my entire life. God, help me. Take me now. I’m serious. I no longer wish to be here.

"Johnny, women like responsible men. Wearing a condom is responsible."

God, a heart attack will do. Maybe a stroke. I'd like to have an open casket, so don't make me too droopy. I prefer to not have any pain, so any type of painless death would be great. Right now. Please take me. I'm ready.

"Your father didn’t like to wear condoms. Fortunately, we only had you"

God, remember that whole thing about having a painless death? Yeah, I've changed my mind. If I can die right now, at this moment, I'm ok with the pain. Perhaps a drive-by shooting? A bullet right through the chest and one in the leg. Seriously, make it painful. I don't care anymore. Just take me now.

"They have so many kinds now. My friend said there are some with little bumps so it feels better for the woman. You should buy that one."

Hey God, hi, it's me Johnny. Yeah, um, have you been listening to my pleas these last couple of minutes? No? Well, here’s the thing, my 62-year old mother is talking about condoms. I think she just finished describing a ribbed condom. Now, I'm not sure what it is that I have done to offend you, but whatever it is please accept my apologies. I am very sorry.

"With condoms you don't get the herpes. Don't forget about your cousin Nicky. He had them. He also had them on his lip, but I know he had them other places. I heard him talking about it. He wasn't a responsible man."

God, remember how you said it's wrong to kill yourself? Does it count if I just stop breathing? The reason I ask is because I haven't been breathing for a while now, but I'm still here. I don't mean to criticize your work on the human body, because you did a stand up job, really, but how long before I pass out? Isn't there a purgatory of some kind? I'd be ok with that. Do you see me lighting this candle? Yes, I'm doing this for you. I will light more. I promise. Please make this stop.

"You’re a good boy. Things will work out."

Thank you God. I owe you one, and I haven't forgotten about that $20 I owe you for those Whitesnake tickets back in '91.