I took the pill until I broke down. Greasy hair and the world through a glass, darkly. The last thing I wanted was sex. My friend tried the coil – cried with the pain, bled like a miscarriage. Another had hormones implanted under her skin, her periods ceased, she took years to revert to normality.
I tried counting. Guessing the danger zone. That ended in tears.
But a condom. Fits all cocks, takes on all comers. Pocket sized, portable. Suits all sexes, any slot.
If the man I love won’t wear one, he’s not the man I love. Pretty good indicator.
~ #3 in a series of flashes celebrating the condom