| A little background: I lived fairly deep in the wilds of the farmland of central Ontario, about a 20 minute drive from the nearest hamlet (pop. 1500). Additionally, I always thought I would wait until I got married before "performing the christening of the St. Augustine", or "shellacking the waxed egg" or "having sex" or any of the other demeaning euphemisms for "phalanxing the Romans".
So when my girlfriend at the time convinced me that she really really wanted to do the deed, I had no condoms, and was many miles from a drugstore. Solution: hop on a bike and ride (70 minutes round-trip) to the nearest town and buy condoms.
Even better, the person behind the counter was a girl from my class in high school. I refused to kowtow to the societal pressure that I must be embarrased to buy condoms. I brazenly approached her and asked her what brand was best. She was remarkably honest in her appraisal of the various brands, commenting on how they felt and such. It was rather like buying a car.. "what do I have to do to get you in a condom today?"
Arriving home after more than an hour away, I was surprised to find my girlfriend still very ready. Although I have my hypotheses, to this day I'm not really sure what she did that whole time... | 
