I even accused my sister once when she came over for the weekend. I asked her, half-joking and half-serious, if she had “borrowed” any. She looked at me like I’d grown two heads and said, “Why would I? I have my own!” So that was a dead end.
Weeks passed, and the mystery kept bothering me. At one point I even searched the apartment for signs of… I don’t know, a raccoon with a menstruation problem? That’s how ridiculous it felt.
Then yesterday happened.
I came home early from work because my meeting got canceled. As soon as I walked in, I heard this weird rustling coming from the bathroom — like someone hurriedly shuffling things around. Then I heard my boyfriend’s voice, panicked and whispering, “Crap, crap, crap…”
Naturally, I thought something was wrong. So I rushed over and pushed the door open.
And there he was.
My boyfriend. Sitting on the bathroom floor like a child caught doing something forbidden. In his hands was one of my pads — peeled open perfectly, sticky side up — and he was pressing it firmly against his armpit.
We both froze. It felt like the world stopped spinning for a full ten seconds.
I finally managed to choke out, “What… are you doing?”
He blinked at me, sighing like he’d been keeping a Nobel-level secret. Then he said, completely earnestly, “They’re perfect for soaking up sweat at the gym.”
I just stared. My brain was buffering.
He then launched into this whole explanation: how the adhesive keeps it in place on the inside of his shirt; how it absorbs sweat better than anything he’s tried; how he didn’t want to “waste them” so he only took one or two at a time. Like he was giving a TED Talk on menstrual-product innovation.
So yeah. Mystery solved.
My boyfriend has been using my pads as armpit sweat absorbers.
I still don’t know whether I’m horrified, impressed, or about to start charging him for supplies.
