“Some women like to imagine big, tough guys getting all squeamish and embarassed when they’re forced to “deal with” things like tampons and periods.

Ladies, here’s the deal. Men don’t get embarassed about tampons. Boys get embarassed about tampons. Men will walk straight into that pink clownshit aisle, scan around for the products you want, put them in the basket, keep them company with some brats and a 12 pack (hey, we’re not getting laid tonight anyway), and slap those bitches on the conveyor belt like a boss. Need the 108 pack? Okay. Need Hoover Dam-brand Super Heavy Flow? Not a problem. I’ll buy you a cork if that’s what you ask for; it’s not my junk that’s dripping, I don’t particularly care.

If the teeny bopper cashier sees my Economy Size box of Tampax and starts giggling, it’s because she’s embarassed, not me. That’s cool, doesn’t bother me any. Put them in the same box with the Honeycomb and the Chex Mix, but do it fast. I’ve got Man Stuff to do.

tl;dr: Honey boyfriend doesn’t give a shit.”