Smack in the heart of liberal, free-swinging Atlanta, the Kroger on Peachtree keeps prophylactics in a cabinet behind a lock (The Goddamn Girlfriend, or GDGF, and I found this out during our walk back home from Mellow Mushroom trivia, where I — like the trivia slut I am — had little-to-no effect on the Olson Twin’s second place finish). Here in Gawd-fearing, sex-hating Cobb County, prophylactics are available on normal shelves just like deodorant and toothpaste, where juveniles and deviants can discreetly access them to insert a layer of latex between them and their perverted, sinful endeavors.

The key issue that arises from keeping prophylactics behind a lock is it requires the buyer to ask someone to open the lock. Fueled by a couple of Sweetwaters, I marched downstairs to customer service and demanded in a gruff, stentorian voice, “Who’s in charge of the condom cabinet?”

This is where the story is supposed to get funny as an awkward exchange between a half-drunk me and a tight-ass clerk drags on, but the guy didn’t seem particularly phased, even when I went out of my way to make things embarrassing for him. And so that ends without fanfare. Most of the embarrassment from that episode was on GDGF’s end.

That leaves us the question of why were the prophylactics behind a lock? Were they trying to keep minors away? To keep people from stealing them? Do they secretly like to record people working up the courage to ask someone to unlock the cabinet? Inquiring minds want to know.