Perfect Baggage and I were still going strong by May. When I came back from Vegas, he took me to see Jurassic Park for my birthday, and even sprung for Whataburger. It wasn’t a date by a long shot, but we were becoming legit friends. We would just call each other to see how the other’s day was. I told him before my partner about my “promotion” at work (just in title and responsibilities, not a penny more…fuckers.) I will never say I loved him, but I enjoyed him in my life immensely.
My partner’s brother was going to be visiting us in May a few weeks after Iron Man 3 was to come out and we planned on all watching it together. However, when we saw it, it was not my first time to see it and I felt like a cheating whore. Not for the whole cheating with a penis, but because I lied about seeing a movie I knew my partner would have wanted to see with me first. We’re huge nerds (comic book Wednesday, anyone?) and we shared in comics and comic book based movies together. I felt so dirty saying I saw 42 (still I’ve never seen the movie) when I was really watching the sexy Guy Pearce.
I had been enjoying routine in my life; every weekend I would paint my nails and toenails. This might sound like a normal woman thing, but to me, it was a HUGE thing. I did the crackle paint and would have Perfect Baggage try to figure out who the combo was for (he failed so much.) My partner would give me the ideas and loved how happy I had been the past few weeks. He didn’t question my absences with Perfect Baggage. I was happy, so he was happy.
The weekend Iron Man came out, I painted my nails in honor of the movie: yellow with red crackle on top. Perfect Baggage asked me to come over Friday after work and help him apply some biofreeze to his muscles from hurting himself at work, and then watch some movies (super old movies too, by the way.) Of course I agreed. I wasn’t expecting sex, let alone the hours and days worth of sex we had.
I’ve mentioned before, Perfect Baggage has the perfect penis; it’s fairly thick, curves up and he knows how to use it (I would make it past tense, but I’m sure the innocent whore (I’m not bitter…) he’s fucking enjoys it.) That weekend, I spent almost all Friday night short of staying the night with him, all of the daylight hours with him Saturday, and then seeing Iron Man Sunday with pre and post movie coitus. I distinctively remember the numerous new and acrobatic positions he wanted to do on Saturday; I was in a crab position at one point, and then some version of the wheel barrel. Upper body weakness, don’t fail me now! Spoiler: he didn’t let me fall. It was AMAZING sex! We watched a lot of movies and just hung out as well. When we saw Iron Man, I constantly looked over my shoulder as if my partner was going to find out I was cheating on him–movie wise. It wasn’t like I was fornicating in the theater, but it was just so…a personal level of cheating. My partner doesn’t care about sex so cheating on a physical level isn’t as “bad” to me; but this…it felt like an emotional cheating experience. Ever since he got his shit together, we were way more connected than pre breakup. I was so happy; I didn’t really need anyone else to satisfy me! I could live with Perfect Baggage penis every week! And after making that conclusion, I erased so many of the booty call contacts from my phone.
With that rationale, I made a dumb decision: I got an iud. Now, for those of you familiar with the apparently fabulous inter uterine device, you probably say it’s pretty cool. Yeah…it is cool in theory…then you get a period for two months at the beginning, bleed if your vagina isn’t used to a decent sized penis, and have unexpected periods. It also hurt like a god damn bitch when I got it. Never had kids, so my cervix was and is still none too pleased by the intrusion. Perfect Baggage and I talked about it; he said if it helped keep Catherine on a normal schedule, why not? The robot vagina ring wasn’t really working out (nuva ring) and I wanted something that would.
My “surgery” was scheduled for the end of June. A lot of shit can happen in 6 weeks. So. Much. Shit.
Lessons learned: if you feel it’s wrong on an emotional level, it stings a lot longer in your subconscious than the feeling of when you cheat the first time. The first time I ever cheated I felt like a champ since my skills were still awesome, but 3 hours later…regret, sadness and then anger at my partner for not giving me what I want. But to be honest, I don’t think I’d be happy to have his penis.
The Daring Vagina