I stare at her with my mouth open, not sure which fact makes me more sad: Claire thinking I wouldn’t want to marry her or Claire not really being addicted to porn. That is a problem I'm sure we can overcome together and without the tears or vomiting...unless that was the type of p**n she was into, but I’m pretty sure we can get through that together as well. Maybe. But I guess that’s a non-issue now.

“Okay, then why the f**k did you stop me? I was seconds away from easing all of her fears,” I complain.

“Um, take a minute and look around, Romeo. Do you really want to propose to Claire in front of a display of c**k rings?”

I glance around me and really take in my surroundings and think about what I'm doing.

“Years from now when she’s retelling this story to your grand kids, do you really want her to say, ‘Well kids, your grandfather popped the question right next to the anal beads and ball gags.'?” Liz says in a grandmotherly voice.

“I’m sorry, I don’t get what the problem is here,” Drew says as he suddenly appears next to Liz, licking a sucker shaped like a pair of tits.

“Go away, this is a secret,” Liz tells him.

“Nice try, twat waffle. I heard the majority of what’s going on. And I kind of want to take Carter here out back and rub my nuts on his head for not telling me he planned to propose to Claire in the happiest place on earth,” Drew states, giving me a dirty look. Well, as dirty a look as he can with sugar boobs on a stick hanging out of his mouth.

“Isn’t Disneyland the happiest place on earth?” Liz asks.

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Drew tells her.

“Look, this was a last minute decision. It’s not like I planned to drop down on one knee in the middle of this place.”

I look away from them to take another glimpse around me.

Why the f**k did I think this was a good idea? Claire would have killed me, murdered me where I stood. My obituary would read, “He died under a pile of pink and purple rubber cocks and double A batteries.”

“I was caught up in the moment and just reacted,” I tell them sheepishly.

Drew pats me on the back. “Awww, you got sentimental in a p**n shop. Will you marry me instead?” he asked with a laugh.

I shut him up with a punch to his chest.

“Wait, if you didn’t plan this, why are you carrying a ring around in your pocket?” Liz asks suspiciously.

“Uh, I, um, kind of carry it everywhere with me,” I tell her, feeling beyond uncomfortable that I'm admitting this out loud. “I’ve had a few proposal plans go belly up the last few weeks. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come up with the perfect plan and every time, something has gone wrong. I like to keep the ring in my pocket so I can reach in and touch the box. It gives me reassurance to keep trying.”

Liz’s bottom lip quivers and Drew stares at me blankly.

“Dude, you’ve been fingering that box in your pocket all this time? I thought you had crabs or something. I was going to let you borrow my cream,” Drew says with a sad shake of his head. “That’s pathetic. You have officially lost your man card. If you take it all back right now and tell me there’s a hole in your pocket and you were just diddling yourself like the old guy over in aisle twelve, I’ll forgive you.”

Liz pinches the skin of his underarm, and Drew lets out a howl, rubbing the spot that is now turning red.

“Shut up, ass fuck. That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Liz says with a sniffle. “Let me see the ring.”

I look behind me and find Claire perusing DVD’s now that the guy playing pocket pool is gone. I slide the ring out of my pocket and quickly opened it for Liz to see.

“Holy shit, you went to Jared’s,” she whispers in awe.

“YES! Ha ha, vindication!” I shout with a fist pump.

Liz and Drew shush me and we all turn around to see if Claire has heard the commotion. I quickly snap the ring box closed and shove it back in my pocket to see that she is oblivious to the noise and is still neck deep in the clearance p**n bin.

That is so hot.

Even if my grandmother walked in right now, I don’t think I’d be able to get rid of my boner.

Sorry, Nana, my girlfriend is in a sex shop trying to pick out the perfect porno for us to watch later. Carter Junior isn’t going anywhere for a while. Please pick girl-on-girl, please pick girl-on-girl.

“Oh for God’s sakes, close your mouth, Carter, or you’ll catch flies,” Liz scolds, bringing my attention back around. “And Drew, quit staring at Jenny’s ass. You’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

“Actually, we’ve already done it three times today. I’m kind of spent,” Drew replies with another lick to the sucker.

“First of all, that’s disgusting and I would have slept a whole lot better tonight if you hadn’t shared that, and second, when the f**k did you even find time to have sex three times? You were at my shop all day helping me unload inventory. You didn’t even see Jenny until we got to the restaurant,” Liz questions.

“First of all,” Drew replies, mocking Liz. “You said ‘load’ and we need to acknowledge that. Heh, heh, load! And second, it was more like one point two times if you want to get technical. I had sex with the Jenny mold twice in the bathroom of your store, and I had sex with Jenny in the bathroom of the restaurant.”

And there goes my boner.

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I think my brain just exploded. You’re bleaching my bathroom tomorrow, asshat,” Liz says angrily.

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?” Claire asks, coming up to the group.

“We’re talking about how many times I spooged in Jenny today,” Drew states proudly.

“Sorry I asked,” Claire replies, turning right back around and walking away.

“Never, ever use that word again. Ever,” Liz tells Drew once Claire is out of earshot. “Okay, Carter, I get where you were going tonight with the whole ‘spur of the moment’ thing and it’s a nice touch. But you need a plan.”

“Hey, Christopher proposed to Adriana without any kind of plan. He just walked into her mother’s house and handed her the ring. Maybe he had the right idea,” I told her indignantly.

“Who the hell are Christopher and Adriana?” she asks.

“Um, duh! From Sopranos,” Drew replies.

“Come to think of it, though, it didn’t really end all that well. He f**ked everything in a skirt, snorted coke, shot up heroin, and had her killed. Plus, the reason he proposed was because he just beat the shit out of her,” I reason.

“Gee, it’s amazing you were able to come to the conclusion that basing your marriage proposal off of an HBO mob show isn’t the best idea,” Liz says with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, as long as Claire doesn’t go to the FBI and rat us out it could totally work,” Drew states. “That’s common sense right there. Bitches are snitches,” Drew says, throwing down gang signs to emphasize his point.

“It’s obvious I’m going to have to do this for you. Give me a few weeks and I’ll have your problem solved,” Liz assures me.

I'm not so sure having someone else plan my proposal to Claire is a good idea, but Liz is her best friend. Who better to help me out with this? Plus, it will alleviate some of the pressure I feel.

The three of us make our way back to the other side of the store where Claire and Jim are standing, staring slack jawed at Jenny.

“What should I do? He tells me to test them out, so I did. How was I supposed to know how far in to stick them?” she whines as we got to the group.

“What happened? What’s going on?” I ask to no one in particular.

I notice Claire is looking a little green again, and I put my arm around her waist and pulled her in to my side.

“I bought some of those Benjamin Wa Balls, and I know you’re supposed to try stuff out before you leave the store to make sure it works. Now I can’t get them out,” she complains.

It's not until that moment I notice she is standing with her legs slightly spread like she was getting ready to take a dump on the floor.

“Did she just say Benjamin Wa Balls?” I whisper to Jim standing next to me.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re concerned with? She stuck a product up her va**na before she left the store. And was planning on putting it back if she didn’t like it,” Jim whispers back in a horrified voice. “I should never have touched anything in here.”

Jenny rocks back and forth from one foot to the other and shakes her h*ps a little in an effort to shake them loose I'm guessing.

“This Benjamin Wa guy should have come up with a better removal plan,” Jenny states.

“Jesus, will you stop calling them that? They're BEN WA BALLS,” Liz shouts. “And you’re not supposed to test the products out IN the store. That’s only for toys that require batteries and the clerk will put some batteries in to make sure the thing actually runs before you leave with it.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know any of this? And I thought that was just a nickname for them and they shortened it to fit on the packaging. I was using the formal name,” Jenny tells her as she continues to move her h*ps around in a giant circle like she's trying to hula hoop in slow motion.

We all just stand around staring at her while she does her weird mating ritual to get Benjamin’s balls loose. It's like a train wreck we can’t turn away from.

“I am never letting anyone use the bathroom in my shop. Ever,” Liz says under her breath.

“Ooooh, I think I got one loose!” Jenny exclaims.

“I totally love you right now!” Drew tells her.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Claire states, throwing her hand over her mouth and running for the exit.

19. Oops, I Did it Again!

After a week of being sick off and on, Carter forces me to go to the doctor. Other than throwing up a few times, I feel fine. I know he's making a big fuss over nothing. But regardless, I haven’t been to my doctor for anything other than my yearly pap test since Gavin was born. He's a general practitioner so he is Gavin’s doctor as well. With all the time I've spent in that office with my son and his check-ups, colds, shots, fevers, diaper rashes, and everything else under the sun, there is no need for me to go in there if it isn’t absolutely necessary. I’m the type of person who doesn’t go to the doctor unless I’m bleeding from the eyes or monkeys are flying out of my ass. I figure my heath and well being will be perfectly fine through osmosis just by walking into that place every couple of months with my son.

When I call my doctor and tell him my boyfriend is being mean and making me get a physical, his exact words are, “Claire, you know there’s more to you than your vagina. I’ve scheduled you for tomorrow.”

Whatever. What if my va**na is the best part? What do you have to say about that, Doctor Dick?

Actually, I really do love our doctor. I have never seen him wearing anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. He’s very down-to-earth and Gavin loves him. Plus, if I’m going to let a guy stick his hands up my snatch once a year, he better make me feel comfortable if he isn’t buying me dinner first.

I'm currently sitting on the exam table in a lovely ensemble of a paper shirt that opens in the front and a paper blanket the size of a newspaper that is supposed to fit around my ass. The room is a balmy fifty-two degrees, and I have been waiting forty-five minutes so far. Needless to say, I'm in a super mood by the time Dr. Williams finally shows up.

“Claire, how are you doing today?” he asks as he walks into the room with a nurse following close behind.

“Oh, I’m just super. Did you do something new with these gowns? They seem to have much more coverage,” I say sarcastically.

“Ah, Claire, you always say the nicest things,” he laughs as he takes a seat on his little stool with wheels and looks over my chart.

The nurse comes up next to me and takes my blood pressure and checks my pulse, reporting the numbers to Dr. Williams so he can notate them.

“Well, your BP is good and you don’t have a fever. When was your last menstrual cycle?”

I count backward through the weeks in my head and then stop and count again.

“Well, it was…I remember it was a Tuesday because that’s the day my supplies are delivered, and I was in the middle of signing for the white chocolate when I felt cramps,” I ramble, trying not to panic.

One, two, three, four, carry the seven, multiply by eight…FUCK!

I glance over at the calendar hanging on the wall. This month shows a black and white cat with wide eyes and both of its paws covering its mouth as if to say 'Oops!'.

Fuck you, you stupid cat! I can’t count with you staring at me like that. And if cats really could say “Oops” they’d do it when they shit on the SIDE of the litter box instead of in it.

I stare at the squares and the numbers on the calendar until they all start to blur together, either from eye strain or tears, I'm not sure which.

“First, how about we just have you scoot down to the end of the table and we’ll check you out. You’re due for your yearly exam next month anyway so we might as well get that taken care of,” Dr. Williams says as he slides his chair closer to me while the nurse pulls out the extension at the end of the table and adjusts the stirrups for my feet.

I lie back and put my legs up in the air while the nurse slides a table over with the pap test kit already set up on top.