Bridget Jones's Diary: Obviously could not say I wanted condoms, as like announcing 'am about to have sex'

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The Independent Online
Friday 30 May

8st 12 (sexual promise, spontaneously combusted fat) alcohol units 0 (very busy preparing, no time for drinking) cigarettes 0 (nervousness, removes need for smoking)

10.30am Oh my God Whippersnapper Dermot who met and snogged with at Easter weekend has, after criminal silence of several weeks (well, 10 days but still indubitable crime after snogging) taken to ringing a lot. However, dates have taken form of eg end-of-day drink after which he went to friend's birthday and did not ask me; walk in park (would have been romantic apart from freezing and blowing gale with self dressed in summer dress, full make-up and platforms) climaxing in inconclusive snog and him saying he had to go and work.

Now, though, he has invited me to screening organised by friend of his in film business of film called - try not to scream - Kama Sutra.

Immediately called Shazzer, naturally, who did scream and said if that was not an invitation to, well, you know, afterwards then what was? "Kama Sutra? - pfwaw, he'll get all steamed up and you'll be lucky to even make it home before ..."

Determined to be sensible, go out to buy condoms in case ... aargh.

Was bloody Richard Finch yelling at me. "Bridget. Will you arseing well stop fiddling around with that Glue Pen and answer the bloody question?"

Honestly, if he did not make his morning meetings so interminable perhaps he could expect people to listen to his boring questions. Anyway turns out he was only on about Tony and Bill, wanting me to ring up Barbie and Co; and get them to come and talk about doing Hillary and Cherie Best Friends dolls. Wonder if Tony and Cherie use condoms? Hmm. Right, am going to wait till the coast is clear and go out to chemist.

1pm Cannot buy the scary condoms. Initially was really enjoying sudden adult feeling of being condom consumer: as when do not have sex-life always feel sad when passing condom section as whole side of life is denied to me. However, when got to counter found millions of different condoms. How supposed to choose? Ultra Safe "for extra sensitivity", Variety pack "for extra choice" (ridiculous Kellogg's-style suggestion); Ultra Fine "spermicidally lubricated", Gossamer "lubricated with a gentle lubricant without" (horrible repulsive word coming up) "spermicide", Natural styled for Extra Comfort (does that mean bigger - then what if too big?). Stared downwards furiously looking under eyelashes at condom array. Surely what one would want is Extra Sensitivity and Extra Comfort and Variety, so why does one have to choose between?

"Can I help you?" said nosy chemist with horrible smirk. Obviously could not say I wanted condoms as like announcing "am about to have sex": almost like when people are walking round obviously pregnant and is like saying, "Look look everyone I have had sex". Almost cannot believe condom industry whose very existence is tantamount to admitting everyone (apart from me) has sex all the time instead of pretending no one does, which is surely more normal in our land.

Anyway. Just bought some Bradosols.

6.10pm Oh my God. Cherie and Hillary BF Dolls item freakishly came to be, with doll manufacturers and feminists arguing furiously across the studio, "Yars, yars but does one really want the child to be role-modelling against what is, effectively, a PR exercise?" But now chemists are shut and have not got condoms. I know: will go to Tesco Metro. Will surely have, as store designed for impulsive singletons.

6.40pm Doom - wandered surreptitiously up and down toothpaste aisle. Zilch. Eventually, in desperation, sidled up to supervisor-style lady and whispered, with an attempt at all-lads-together, one eyebrow raised smirk, "Where are your, er condoms?"

"We are going to do them," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe in a couple of weeks." "Fat lot of good that is to me!" I felt like yelling. "What about tonight?" But instead just shuffled shamefacedly away.

7pm Just went to little dirty supermarket. Could see condoms behind counter with cigarettes but queue behind and couldn't do it. Also too sordid. Want to buy condoms in lovely clean Boots-style environment. Also no choice. Just premium quality teat-ended.

7.15pm Have had brainwave. Will go to petrol station. Wait in queue whilst secretly looking at condoms. Then pretend to look at chocolates till queue has dispersed then ... Actually maybe it seems sluttish to be girl and have condoms. No, must not conform to male stereotypes. All clean girls have condoms. Is hygiene.

7.30pm Lala la. Have dunnit. Was easy. Actually managed to grab two packets. One Improved Ultra Lightweight Latex Teat-Ended for Even Greater Sensitivity and one Variety pack (could not resist). Assistant looked startled at range and quantity of condom choice yet strangely respectful. Maybe he thought I was schoolteacher going to give Safe Sex lesson in Biology early next day.

7.40pm Blimey. V shocked by frank drawings in instruction leaflet. Bet they had a difficult time deciding on sizing of pictures not to make anyone feel crestfallen or over-arrogant. Variety pack is insane. "Mates coloured condoms are vibrantly coloured for extra fun." Extra fun? Suddenly got garish image of couples with vibrantly coloured rude bits wearing paper hats, hooting with gay sexy laughter and hitting each other with balloons. Think will throw mad Variety Pack away.

11pm Got to screening theatre five minutes late to find Dermot waiting outside. "You're late," he said in an Irish accent. "I've waited to say hi because I've got to rush right off afterwards. I'm going to Liverpool. So I'll give you little kiss goodnight now."

Humph. Anyway, Shaz says Dermot is either a eunuch, gay or an IRA terrorist and not to worry about wasting money as the sell-by date is 2004.