Risky Behavior

Shannon Kernaghan Social-Distance-Please-400 Risky Behavior Covid-19 Adventure Challenges Health Obsesive Behavior  taking risks

The expression of the day is “risky behavior” compliments of Covid-19 warnings on how to avoid transmission: don’t congregate, don’t shake hands and don’t expect coffee shops to touch your refillable cups. From quarantines and closed borders to canceled schools and supply shortages – the daily number of confirmed cases is alarming.

The meaning of risky behavior sure has altered since I was a teenager. As with previous generations, we had the usual collection of risks, but most referred to the perils of running with scissors and the prospect of having sex.

Fast forward to 2020. As the coronavirus sweeps the globe, I’m convinced that life for young people is becoming more restrictive by the hour. 

How easy I used to have it! When I went to a New Year’s Eve party as a teen, I brought along two invaluable things: taxi fare in case I couldn’t find a sober driver and a roll of mints for breath protection. Locking lips at the stroke of midnight was a given. I can’t recall every name or face, yet I do remember the kissing.

With the present-day virus risk, a few breath mints won’t cut it. Today, if people plan to kiss, they’ll need a hazmat suit as if handling radioactive isotopes. Add the caution of “spread the word, not the disease” – forget about sharing drinks or borrowing a friend’s lipstick. And make room, taxi fare (or Uber account): pack a supply of sanitizing gel, rubber gloves and face masks. If I were currently dating, I’d be a nervous wreck. I’d also need a larger purse for all the required items!

How do these findings translate to modern-day youth? If you’re brave enough to venture out on a date with someone you’ve been drooling over, even a brisk glove-covered handshake is going too far. Instead, blow a kiss from at least six feet apart.

Come to think of it, try not to drool. You might be contagious. I hope you two make a compatible duo because you might end up quarantined together.

Yikes! Dating never felt so risky.

audio song 
“Heartbreak”
by
Vibe Tracks

Tell Your Friends

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on google
Share on pinterest
Share on reddit
Share on tumblr
Share on whatsapp
Share on email

Did You Say Tampons?

Shannon Kernaghan Tampon-Box-cover-400 Did You Say Tampons? Relationship Health Sex  taking risks risk health risk covid-19

“Want me to buy more tampons?” I called out, standing at the door and ready to walk to Rexall for coffee cream. In this age of Covid-19 and social distancing, a quick friend-free walk followed by a speedy purchase has been the extent of both exercise and social life.

My husband joined me in the hall, saying, “Yes please, but don’t get me scented ones.”

That’s when I started to giggle. “What the fk happened to us? You used to ask for wine or beer, and now it’s tampons!”

Paul had used the last of my supply. Not for the intended reason but to soak up his spit.

Before anyone phones me in concern for my husband’s well-being, he’s fine. He’s so fine that he decided to whiten his teeth with bleaching trays.

Now that we’re in almost-self-isolation – until we run out of cream again – Paul has more time for self-improvement. But sitting with bleach-filled trays in his mouth for an hour a day in this week-long regime makes him drool. A lot.

When you live with someone for years, new behaviors aren’t shocking. But the first sight of him watching TV with a string hanging down his chin made me shriek: “Is that a tampon or the tail of a mouse?” I wasn’t sure which answer would make me feel better. My next comment: “Don’t move, I’m getting the camera!”

Scanning the shelves at Rexall today, I reached for the cheapest $3.49 sale box. Brand names and testimonials weren’t required, only the no-scented request.

Then I told my husband/drool/tampon story to the cashier. Sudden snorting and laughter wrinkled her surgical mask while I handed her my money.

Before I walked more than three steps outside the store, I thought, Wait a minute, $13.25 for sale tampons and a pint of cream? That’s not right.

I returned to her line, positioning myself an acceptable distance from the shopper ahead, and showed her the receipt when it was my turn. “I didn’t intend to pay $10 for a few drool catchers!” She laughed again and hurried with me to the tampon shelf to compare bar codes.

“Sorry, our mistake,” she said, and pointed to the correct sale box. I grabbed it and followed her back to the register for my refund, which required a signature with her non-sterilized pen. Luckily, I had my own pen handy.

Outside again, I swabbed my hands with sanitizing gel. Halfway home, I decided to double-check the new tampon box and . . . Scented, dammit! How did I miss that?

I refused to return a third box so walked further to another store. The place was busy! Aren’t we supposed to stay indoors, I thought, at least until we run out of cream for our coffee?

If anyone needs any scented tampons, let me know. Just wait until we’re pandemic-free before we meet up. I’ve crossed paths with enough people for one day.

And If I do contract the virus, you know I’ll blame Paul and his sparking white teeth.

Audio story song “Feeling Good”
by
Doug Maxwell

Tell Your Friends

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on google
Share on pinterest
Share on reddit
Share on tumblr
Share on whatsapp
Share on email