I thought I was the only one who looked at those bananas and thought, come on, we’re all intellectuals here. I would stand by the toaster looking down at the display, cup my balls and gave them a little squeeze, just to let them know everything was alright. But my penis seemed to wither. And a line for the toaster formed behind me.
I began to notice women picking up a fruit in each hand and looking anxiously between them. Some would come to rest on the apple and, defeated, place the grapefruit back on the stack.
I eventually built up the courage to confront one. I walked up to a booth of three girls and, gauging their reactions, placed a banana on the table. “I completely agree,” one said. “Like I’m sure someone would enjoy that, but I look at it and I think, there’s no way.”