Humor

My Existential Crisis at a Gas Station

I had always wondered about Gas Station Boner Pills.

Which, of course, is a weird thing to admit.

Never in a serious way. And certainly never with the intention to actually buy one.

But I always thought about it comically, with a wry grin slapped across my face.

The idea that someone would be so desperate, so full of lust, that their last hope could be a pill purchased alongside a Slim Jim and a bottle of Mountain Dew. The idea that a gas station, which is quite possibly the least sexy place on Earth, held a hard solution to a very soft problem.

That was—and still is— very funny to me.

To me, this purchase is kind of like going #2 at an airport. The gas station boner pill was, in my opinion, the ultimate last resort.

But after a weekend in Texas, I found myself in possession of one. Not that I plan to use it. But how it all happened has not only made my mind wander but also shaken my sense of self worth, right down to the studs.

In the embers of my old ego, I’d like to share what happened and why I’m now questioning everything I’ve ever known about myself.

I was standing in that line you never want to be in at a gas station—the one three people deep, with everyone craning their necks to see what in the hell could possibly be taking so long.

There was a guy buying a lotto ticket, naturally. Followed by another guy agonizing over which cigarettes to get – he had the same intensity of someone deciding on which college they should attend. Then, just for fun, a beverage sales rep decided now was the perfect time to pitch his wares and clogged up the line. Because who doesn’t love waiting behind a sales pitch when you’re just trying to buy a Coke?

By the time it was my turn to check out, I was so deep into my phone, searching for any distraction from this Texan hellhole, I was barely functioning as a human.

All I wanted was a Coke. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. So I pointed vaguely toward something red and can-shaped and waited for my punishment to be over.

But then the attendant—who had clearly decided to make this interaction as memorable as possible—came around the counter with a grin that can only be described as conspiratorial. He slipped me a packet like he was giving me insider information. He didn’t want anyone else to see…

The packet was gold and thin, with writing I couldn’t decipher. It looked like Arabic, or maybe just fancy scribbles. Either way, it was suspicious in a way I never previously experienced.

“You want this?” he asked, nodding enthusiastically.

I furrowed my brows.

“No… I just want a Coke,” I muttered, still staring at the package. I’ve never had a gas station cashier come around the counter before. It felt oddly personal, and maybe a little illegal.

He shook his head, like what I said wasn’t actually what I wanted.

“No, you want this,” he demanded.

I sighed and shoved the package into my pocket, half-expecting it was a bomb. And it was… just not in a way that goes boom.

“Thanks, I guess,” I muttered still unsure of what I was thanking him for. But curiosity killed this cat.

“What… what is it?” I asked, turning back toward him, more confused than ever.

“Oh, that?” He said with raised eyebrows.

“That’s this!” He proceeded to grab his sweatpants and yank them forward until a sharp bulge stuck out from his crotch.

Even though he didn’t speak, what he said was louder than words.

“It’s that,” he said with a look.

One of them gas station boner pills.

It was at that exact moment that everything I thought I knew about myself went out the window and down the drain.

As I mentioned, I’d always joked about those pills, and in my mind’s eye, I’d formed a very specific image of the kind of person who bought them.

To me, I always envisioned a lovesick trucker.

He’d storm into the gas station, ripping the door off the hinge, cut the line, and not ask but demand the pills. His eyes would dart nervously toward his truck, which was still running outside.  The cashier would nod. They’d understand—he’s hard up for a hard-on—and quickly cash him out. No words needed to be exchanged.  This happened before. It’ll happen again. The pills would be passed over discreetly, and the trucker would grunt in gratitude as he rushed out, feeling the relief that only these pills can bring.

But in reality, the kind of guy who gets these apparently is a guy who looks like me.

Standing in line, impatient, just trying to get home. I knew gas stations could fill you up, but I didn’t think they could fill me with existential dread.

And who knows? I always thought I was a Coke guy, but maybe I was a gas station boner pill guy all along.

Please like, comment, share and tell me what you think. I’ve been reading David Sedaris lately and wanted to tell a story like he does. 

 

39 thoughts on “My Existential Crisis at a Gas Station”

  1. That cigarette guy is the one I find interesting, when I worked at a gas station people were very brand loyal to their smokes. Maybe they didn’t have his usual and that’s why the paralysis.

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  4. Your puns were the best part. And I’ll never look at a gas station convenience store in the same way again.

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  7. Hillarious! Anxiety is synonymous eithbthe frantic need for the boner pill, so never time you are in that line, be calm and all you will get is your coke!

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  11. I’ve always wondered how those pills stay in the market. If they only have one-time buyers because they don’t work, how many guys are there in need of them? Even as I make this remark on your well written post, I’m still giggling like a school boy. Thanks for the laughs!

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  12. Funny, and I wouldn’t have minded a longer version :). Here in Europe, the gas station toilets have a whole bunch of lonely trucker material on sale, and I’ve always wondered who would be desperate enough to buy this. I can hardly believe a 2 euro blow-up vagina would be worth the money… But there must be some market for it I suppose.

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  13. This gave me an existential vicarious crisis. I so imagine being a male under 50 and this cashier insisting you needed or wanted it. It’s like, “I don’t look that old do I?” Btw…I have no clue how old you are. I’m just saying in general. Also, I know anybody at any age could “use” one of those for any number of reasons. It is just due to my ideas of who uses them, never once did it cross my mind that someone under 50 might need or want it. It was a good read and laugh. Thank you.

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  15. And now, I’m going to be scanning my local convenience store’s wares at the front counter to be nosy and see if they actually carry this mess. 😂😆🤣

    Definitely worth the read! Please don’t take those pills, though. Something else may end up happening to you!

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  16. This was easily one of the funniest and “funnest” blogs I have read. Your humor comes across effortlessly. I will read more of your work in some time… but in the meanwhile, you mind helping me out with sorting my website? I am not exactly new here, but I am giving it enough importance for the first time. And yeah i can technically google stuff and try to learn on my own, but I learn better when someone teaches me and hey… aren’t we all trying to connect? LMK what you think. No pressure, either way. I would still follow you and go through your content 😛

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  17. Look, you are not the only one who has made jokes about these pills, I too have spent many a hours imagining the situations where some guy would, out of immense desperation, need to follow through with this situation, and you my guy, just made my day with this story, great work!!

    Reply

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