Author’s note: This is a personal essay about a moment in the incontinence aisle, and a true story from my early twenties. Some details have been polished for readability; the awkwardness has not.
Future historians may note that the most significant missed connection of my early twenties didn’t happen at a party, a concert or a candlelit café. It happened in the incontinence aisle of a Rite-Aid in Hamden, tucked into the store’s southwest corner.
By then I was a seasoned, if discreet, customer of that corner. The store’s layout, whether by design or by divine mercy, had put the incontinence products as far from the pharmacy counter as possible, which gave a man a little privacy while he browsed. That day my mission was modest: a pair of Salk plastic pants and, if the mood struck, a quick survey of the adult diaper selection. I approached the way I always did. I walked down the neighboring aisle with the casual purpose of someone deeply interested in foot care, then made a U-turn at the end.
A Crowd of Two in the Incontinence Aisle
I rounded the corner and stopped. Someone was already there. A young woman about my age, and very attractive, was standing in front of the plastic pants, browsing with the focus of a wine collector. She looked up, shocked. I looked back, equally shocked. In about one second, an entire conversation passed between us without a word. There are only so many reasons a person in their twenties lingers in that particular aisle, and we both knew, with total certainty, that the other one was there for the exact same reason.
Then we did what any two rational adults would do. We panicked. She suddenly developed an urgent interest in something at the far end of the store. I discovered that I, too, had pressing business elsewhere, possibly involving greeting cards. We retreated to opposite corners of the Rite-Aid like diplomats after a failed summit, and as far as I know, neither of us bought a single diaper or a single pair of plastic pants that day. Two shoppers, one aisle, zero transactions.
We both went back eventually, of course, though never at the same time, as far as I know.
The Coffee That Never Happened
Looking back, I’m struck by what a waste it was. If I’d been a little braver, or a little less inhibited about the whole subject, I might have said hello. We might have gone out for coffee. Diapered coffee, even. Eventually drinks, if things went well. It could have potentially changed my life.
But then, I can say that about a lot of things. This one just happened to involve diapers and plastic pants.
Would rather skip the aisle altogether? See our guide In-Store vs. Online: Where to Buy Adult Diapers.
