Mom Condoms

I give my mom a lot of credit. She, uh–she had to do a lot of weird shit. You know, she had to– like, my mom had to buy me condoms. I feel like that’s a dad’s job. I mean, I never had a dad, but I assume that’s, like, the dad’s job. Like, in my head, uh, how I would get condoms from my dad is, we would be having a catch, and then all of a sudden, a huge box of condoms would appear in his hand, and he’d be like, “Go long!” And he would throw it, and then I would catch it, and he’d be like… I don’t know; I don’t have a dad. But I assume that’s, like, how it goes down.

I'll tell you how it’s not supposed to go down. I got home from school, and I was, like, a sophomore in high school. And my mom was like, “Hey, I left a little present for you on your bed.” I was very excited. I was like, “Oh, my God, perhaps it’s sneakers.” I was very— there was endless possibilities. It could be DVDs. Those were hot at the time. It could have been a million things. I get up there. It’s a 50-pack of condoms. Every variety, every brand. And I just wanted to be like, “Mom, who the fuck do you think your son is?" Like, I never even brought a friend home. Like, what made you think I was out there, like, slinging pussy? I hang out with you every night. Do you want to fuck me? Do you want to fuck me, Mom? No, let’s fuck. I’m mad now.”