The Today Sponge in 10 Acts: A Cautionary Tale

I don't like condoms.  Does anyone?  Mr. Magpie doesn't like them either, but he also dislikes unplanned pregnancy, so it's a draw.  Technically I'm not supposed to discuss his sex life anymore.  But this is for the greater good.

So I was in the condom aisle at Target the other day when something stopped me in my tracks: The Today Sponge.  Just sitting there minding its business in a shiny turquoise box.  I nearly peed my pants.

I've been hearing about the Sponge as if it were some kind of mythical unicorn for my whole adult life.  (And yes, I've seen the Seinfeld.) You can read about the particulars here.

I read that by 1985, the Sponge was the #1 birth control product in America.  So there must be something to this, right?

I purchased a box and skipped home to tell Mr. Magpie that our birth control situation was solved.  Friday night came and I opened the box.

Here's where it gets real, in 10 steps.

1.  Stuff what is essentially a soggy Marshmallow Peep up your pussy after 4 glasses of wine.  ALL the way up.  There you go.

2.  Discover that it soaks up all of your initial lubrication because it is, after all, a sponge.  No worries.  Power through.

3.  Realize that your husband's entire, umm, manhood doesn't fit where it normally does because OH YEAH THERE'S ALREADY SOMETHING IN THERE.

4.  Convince yourself that this mythical unicorn birth control Peep is the best birth control on the planet, otherwise, why would so many people have been yammering on about it for 20 years?  Have sex five more times in 18 hours just to prove how right you were about it.

5.  Go to the bathroom to take it out and shower because you have to go play board games (yes, again) and be normal with your husband's coworkers in an hour.

6.  Except it's not coming out.  There is no loop to pull because it's all turned around and it's so so far in there.  And some of us were blessed with a very deep cervix and very short fingers.  But you have to go play board games so you'll deal with it later.

7.  Repeat procedure at midnight after several vodka-cranberries, because alcohol makes everything easier.  Realize with sinking dread that it's still not coming out and your fingers can touch the thing but cannot grab onto it because it's a soggy Marshmallow Peep suctioned between uterine muscles.  Tell yourself that the burning and itching in your vagina is caused by vodka leaking out, not an ounce and a half of highly acidic Nonoxynol-9 spermicide.
 

8.  Wake up at 8AM and do wrist contortions, Kegels, yoga positions, and squat thrusts on the bathroom floor.  Take a hot bath and do the same things in water.  (Works for childbirth, right?)
 

9.  Stand in the kitchen panicked for 10 minutes staring at tongs, chopsticks, a spatula, and a turkey baster.  Decide that these things are only going to make the situation worse when you have to explain this all to a social worker in the ER.
 

10.  Admit to yourself that it's okay if your husband will never have sex with you again, and direct him to use his long man fingers to reach into your vagina and pull out your Today Sponge.

And scene.