Love = Tampons

While the seemingly never-ending quest for Mr. Right marches on, it's not uncommon to stop and ask yourself, What exactly am I looking for? The answer lies in the feminine hygiene aisle.

A few years ago, I was working a minimum-wage job at a drug-store in college, when a man approached the register with a box of pads. Then he asked if he could use our phone, and proceeded to call his wife so he could double check to make sure he had the right kind. That, I thought to myself, is love.

Ever since, I've been searching for a man who is willing to stop at the store and pick up tampons for me. I haven't put anyone through The Tampon Test yet, but I'm willing to bet the long-term relationship I was in at the time would have ended a lot sooner had I given my long-term boyfriend The Test the next day.

Aside: Not long after, another man came in, and his sole purchase was a pregnancy test. The favor screamed fear more than love, although it's easy to picture a scenario involving his girlfriend crying on the bathroom floor over her missed period, and he chivalrously runs to the nearest drugstore in order to calm her down, but it's partially his fault she's crying on the bathroom floor to begin with.

And I'm not talking about a guy who grabs the first box of tampons he sees and shoves it under his coat (because seriously, generic tampons? I don't think so) but the guy who is sure to buy the Tampax Pearl multi-pak, and possibly a pint of Ben & Jerry's Half-Baked (because he knows you'll be needing some of that too) because you don't deserve generic tampons, you deserve the best. Is that too much to ask?