into-the-blue.com

Or was it the condom? Or the pill? And was it in the kitchen? Or perhaps the living room? And was it really even Ms. Scarlett, or was it some ghoulish doppelganger? Hmm, sounds like an adult’s version of Clue: pick your poison.

These days there’s a relatively new trend in birth control for women: oral and other hormone-based contraceptives that prevent menstruation for several months. “Very cool”, said Ms. Scarlett. “I think I’ll try some of these, because who doesn’t want to not bleed every month?”

And so began 10 days of endless bleeding, pain, suffering and death threats. The death threats were directed at me. You know the kind of death threat where Ms. Scarlett stands in the kitchen in a combative stance, eyes blazing and a slightly frantic look on her otherwise angelic face, waving a 7 inch phallic symbol knife in my face while screaming “I’m going to kill the fuckers who prescribed this pill. Didn’t they stop for a moment to think that what works for a 140lb person is probably 50% too much for a 94lb person?”

“Don’t laugh at me! Don’t even smile! I swear I’ll kill you if I even see your eyes start to crease at the edges!” she yelled, followed shortly by a very tearful “I’m such a wreck. My chest hurts. I can’t even wear a T-shirt comfortably because it’s so painful. Where is all this blood coming from? I didn’t even know that I had that much in my body. I need wine. Lots of wine. Do we have any wine? Why don’t we have any wine? GO GET SOME WINE NOW!!!!”. And then the tears started.

After about 5 days of this kind of hell, Ms. Scarlett thought it would be prudent to start investigating the side effects of said oral contraceptives. Imagine her surprise to see comments like the following on a web site:

“I’ve been on autumnale for about 11 weeks now and I’ve been bleeding for 7 to 8 weeks”

and

“I was on autumnale for over a year, and only started bleeding into my second pack. After that point, it was constantly starting and stopping every other day.”

Upon rereading some of the fine print associated with the prescription, things like “severe breakthrough bleeding”, “painful and swollen breasts”, “reduced sex drive” suddenly started screaming at poor, deranged Ms. Scarlett. “REDUCED SEX DRIVE”, she screamed, “WHAT.THE.FUCK! I’m taking this goddamned pill because I don’t want children, not because I don’t want sex! That’s it, I’m done! Oh, and I need a new bathing suit!”

Guys, the first rule of dealing with hormonally challenged women is to just acquiesce to their every demand. If the light of your life wants Palak Paneer at 3am, get it. Even if she is allergic to spinach.

Just.Get.It.

If she wants wine, for the love of god don’t ask her why. Get in the car, go to the store and buy several bottles. But if she wants another bathing suit in mid-winter, gently try to dissuade her from that by asking her if she wants some wine or suggesting some other hobby like serial killing. That’s where rule number two kicks in: DON’T LET THEM LOOK AT THEMSELVES IN A MIRROR. This supersedes rule number one. Always.

Without exception.

The moral of the story is that the last thing you want is for your girlfriend to try on a bathing suit while going through a hormone-induced meltdown. You’ll become desperate enough to try anything, and I mean anything, to make her happy. Like buying her shoes. And that is only the beginning of the depths to which you’ll sink.

Damn it’s good to be a guy …