I got my own boyfriend pillow for a few reasons, the main being that I'm a complete and total freak with a deep dependency on snuggles. Not just any snuggles, of course. I don't enjoy many people touching me and even give my friends butt-out hugs. I'm like a cat: pet me, but only with your eyes… unless you're going to give me a present. In that case, by all means.
What I DO enjoy is snuggling my domestic partner, Michael. I would crawl inside his skin like an amoeba if I could.
It's fine, I swear.
But since Michael and I both have jobs and lives and can't always be together for these addictive cuddlefests, I figured, "Why not get a boyfriend pillow to fill in the gaps?"
Arturo arrived, dressed in shoddy business casual. He's a half-torso with one arm, stuffed with foam air-beads that were just waiting to to be filled with my adoration. "Why not just have two boyfriends?" I wondered, giving him his name and one-upping my cuddly needs.
I introduced Arturo to my real-life boyfriend, and was totally ready to have the cuddle-threesome most women only dream of.