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How I got my stupid nickname

The shame of it!

By Jesse WilsonPublished 2 years ago 4 min read
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How I got my stupid nickname
Photo by Alexandra Gorn on Unsplash

Many, many years ago, too long to try and do the math, I found myself oscillating between the excitement and apprehension of my final year at University.

I was lucky enough to have secured accommodation on the University campus. So I was immensely grateful for the additional time it would afford to focus on the mountain of a year ahead with finals and a dissertation just around the corner. I knew it was time to knuckle down and capitalise on the previous years of partying. I mean work.

Naturally, my parents wanted to do everything they could to assist. So at the start of term, they accompanied me to the campus with my belongings to help me settle and see me off. Going away for the term, you would think that I would only need a few items such as clothes, books, and a few home comforts, but somehow I remember packing the car until it was almost full. In and amongst all my belongings, I had a bedside cabinet that possibly helps paint the picture of why the car was full. Past experience taught me that I needed some furniture, so I was determined to be prepared this time.

The drive to campus was an unusually long one. Motorway traffic, road works and inevitable queuing to get there were all unwanted features of the journey. Understandably, we were all slightly irritable and thankful for the first opportunity to get out and stretch our legs.

This opportunity arrived when we reached our destination and were directed to park based on our chosen halls of residence. Because of the limited parking space and the layout of the University, we had a short 2–3 minute walk between parking and my accommodation. Because of this situation, the University had kindly organised helpers to help with transporting our belongings, which we welcomed. I thought after the journey we had that this was a great idea. We just needed to off-load our car and wait for our designated helpers.

And so we began; a couple of smiling students arrived and greeted us with a warm welcome. I can’t remember their academic year, but it doesn’t matter for this part of the story. Having done the introductions, I grabbed a suitcase, and one of the students grabbed something else. Another student helped my parents off-load the last of my belongings from the car.

All was good, so I began the walk to my new room.

On my walk back, I remember thinking that this is an excellent start to the year. You could feel the expectation for what this year would bring. There were plenty of smiles and laughter all around, with parents and students conversing while busying themselves with the business of off-loading their cars and transporting their belongings.

And then it happened! As I approached our family car, I could see my mum and dad look at me, look towards the ground and then look away. There was a reason for this, and I will never forget that look on their face.

You see, one of our student helpers decided it would be helpful to take my bedside cabinet to my room. No problem there, except that he and I will always remember it was a he, who decided to grab the cabinet by the drawer handle. As he did, the handle broke, and the drawer’s contents fell out all over the floor in full display of all the other parents, students and worst still my parents.

Yes, you guessed it! There was something that shouldn’t be there. Well, at least in full view for the world to see. There gleaming in the light on full display were packets of condoms, prophylactics, whatever you want to call them. Lying in all their glory strewn on top of my belongings. Because of this, there was no chance of denying any knowledge of them. I was mortified and highly embarrassed.

You know how it is in movies where they show a sequence of events in slow motion. Because of this, you get a chance to witness the full facial expressions of those involved and hear the elongated sound of the word, Nooooooooooo! Well, that was me on that day and needless to say, the next few minutes were a blur. All I remember is my parent’s faces, hearing sniggers and me scrambling, trying to pick up my embarrassment for what felt like an eternity to me. I desperately tried to pick up every piece of, well we might as well call it contraband. I was busted!

To add insult to injury that evening whilst at the student bar, I foolishly mentioned what happened that day to one of my class colleagues. Consequently, news quickly spread, and I was given the childish nickname of, “CC” aka “Captain Condom”. For months every time, when someone asked why the name? I had to make a decision. Do I smile and blatantly ignore them, or do I relive the story much to their amusement and the risk of further jokes?

There were a couple of lessons I learned that day. First, lock your bedside cabinet drawer, and if you don’t want a stupid nickname, don’t tell people stuff like this.

Embarrassment
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About the Creator

Jesse Wilson

Writer | Conscious Living Speaker | Poet - Inspiring people to find their purpose and live healthier, happier, more loving, and fulfilled lives.

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