A Box Of Trojans Please! – From The Archives – 2015

Yes my children.

Though some of you might not believe it we had sex in the ‘50s.

Yes we did. Even the Cleavers though on black and white TV no one ever had sex. Or went to a toilet.

Now sex in the ‘50s had rules.

First there were church rules. No sex before marriage. Especially us Catholics.

No sex with your girlfriend. Certainly no sex with another boy. And no sex alone. No “spilling the seed”. In Catechism class all us boys learned about Onan. Besides, it could make you go blind. I wore glasses from when I was six. Girls didn’t have to learn about Onan.  They had other sins to worry about.

Getting ready for Confession meant counting up the number of sins – especially the really bad ones. The priest always seemed to ask how many times.

Chaperones at the school and church dances (Confraternity!) made sure you didn’t dance too close.   When ever we started “doing the fish” and rubbing crotches together the guilty young man would get a tap on his shoulder from one of the minders and be expected to hold his girl at a respectable distance.

Now the other conditions which had a great effect on the rules of sex were (a) there was no “pill” and (b) getting hold of any contraception wasn’t easy for a teen. In Connecticut, as in many states, before Griswold, condoms were not sold anywhere and were not available, even to married couples – let alone horny teenage boys.

So if you were having hot sex with your high school sweetheart with no “protection” there was a really good chance of “knocking her up” – as the old sayings go – where upon you could expect a visit from her father, brothers and uncles demanding you “do the honorable thing” – marry her.

Obviously since there was no possibility of abortion, even when the mother took Thalidomide, a baby was going to be born.

If you married your sweetheart you dropped out of school and took a job on the docks. She immediately dropped out of school – no pregnant girls allowed. No married girls allowed. High school was over.

If you didn’t marry her the local grandmas immediately painted a red “W” for “Whoo-wa” on her forehead.  She went off to some “home” to have the baby and give it up for adoption. If you were Italian she was sent back to Italy to stay with her Aunt Filomena and give the baby up for adoption in the old country.  This had the advantage of being able to go back to high school and tell everyone you spent a year studying abroad.  If she stayed home and you married her the grandmas immediately started counting off the months to determine whether or not she deserved a “W”.

Or she was the victim of a back alley abortion with a wire coat hanger.

So while engaging in sex in the ‘50s one had to be very very careful. This lead to lots of sex without actual intercourse sex.  Sort of Clintonesque sex.  Lots of seed spilling anywhere but where it could cause trouble.

The Valley Stream Drive-in.  a Brooklyn boy’s  first bedroom.

When you and your lady were ready to move out of the drive-in and the back seat of your ‘49 Chevy tonguing and dry humping stage and on to real sex, condoms were necessary. Your girl wasn’t buying that coitus interruptus crap you were giving her.  If you wanted to get laid you needed to man up and get condoms.

And the church and the state didn’t make it easy. Making it easy would encourage illicit sex. Can’t have that now can we?

It was the man’s job to get condoms. If you lived in Connecticut it meant a trip to New York. If you lived in New York it still wasn’t made easy.

There were no giant super markets or drug store chains 65 years ago. There was a grocery store run by a grocer. He didn’t sell condoms. And there was a drug store, run by a “druggist”. He sold condoms. But he knew your mom.

The dreaded drug store where you had to ask for Trojans!

Which meant buying condoms at a drug store outside of your neighborhood – somewhere you wouldn’t run into anyone who knew you while you were doing the deed.

You scouted the landscape. All clear. You enter trying to look as “adult” and casual as possible.

Condoms are ALWAYS behind the counter and out of sight. You ALWAYS have to ask for them. You make sure there are no women nearby and no woman behind the counter. You approach and as quietly as possible you ask for “a box of Trojans”.  Damn if the counter-man doesn’t always ask you to speak up! You might as well go for it now. “TROJANS PLEASE!”.  When he asked “what size” you needed to answer whether you wanted a box of three  or a box of a dozen.  Holding your hands a foot apart made you look like a rookie.

If you’re lucky and the druggist doesn’t roust you for being underage you get your rubbers and skip out dreaming about getting laid on the way home. You hide them so your parents won’t find them. Your girl is so proud of you. Kisses for you.

Checking into a respectable motel with your girl isn’t easy either. You just didn’t walk up to the desk and check in, You two weren’t married.  And identification was necessary.

You scouted the back of the motel, made sure she could enter the room without being seen, and the MAN registered. After you got the key you snuck her in. Then you had to get her home before curfew.  Since there were no credit cards in the “olden days” you paid cash up front and simply left the key in the room.

The world changed with Griswold, Roe v. Wade and the coming of the pill. Women were put in control of their bodies, a right now under severe attack.

The vast majority of Catholic women, even those sitting in the pews each Sunday, gave up Vatican Roulette, ignored their priests and took up the pill. My 4 grandparents had thirteen children. Most married Catholic women living in a state where condoms were not available were having a kid a year if they didn’t practice some sort of birth control.

Even Vatican Roulette failed quite often – a woman had no right to refuse her husband. The law didn’t recognize that a husband could rape his wife. “No” was not an option.

Millions of couples, including a good friend’s parents separated and lived apart for decades because the church would not permit divorce.   Other “stars” in the public eye engaged in “serial marriage” – some with seven or eight spouses, never wanting to appear as “living in sin”.

So when you hear church prelates and “values” pols droning on about birth control, abortion, pre-marital sex etc. just pull out this opus and read it again.

This is what they would send you back to……….(dangling participle!)


An excerpt from “Toritto’s Blog – a Memoir of a Life in Posts”


Also available in Kindle





About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
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6 Responses to A Box Of Trojans Please! – From The Archives – 2015

  1. beetleypete says:

    When I was young, the main brand sold was ‘Durex’. (Still around now) They only ever seemed to be sold in Barber’s Shops, and despite advertising signs on the wall, were not openly displayed. Older men would be asked, ‘Something for the weekend, sir?’ Everyone knew what that meant, a packet of three slid across the counter.
    The first time I was asked that question, I was still just 15, with zero chance of going all the way with my first ‘real’ girlfriend at the time. Unable to bear the embarrassment of saying I didn’t need them, I bought them anyway, and threw them away in a rubbish bin further down the street.
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. toritto says:

    “Why yes indeed!”




  3. Maggie says:

    Frank, one of my favorite ‘coming of age’ movies was “The Summer of 42” which had this classic scene.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Elizabeth says:

    Been there. I was in college in Massachusetts with the same laws against contraception. I love remembering all those “not quite” experiences. Hadn’t thought of “dry humping” in a long time. Made me laugh. And thank goodness cars had bigger back seats.

    Liked by 1 person

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