The Short Lived Adventures of the Boy Next Door

Considering how much of an effect he has had on my conscience for the last few weeks; I feel that the BND has been overlooked as a character in the story of my disorderly recovery.

BND: “I’ve read the new blog entry” The Boy Next Door was told about the blog about 6 weeks ago, for many reasons. One of them being that the BND is a blogger on Tumblr and I thought it would be in the interests of V-ATTS to get some real constructive criticism and help with post subjects. Another being I wanted to have sex with him, simple as really.

A: “Ah yeah, forgot to mention the new post, what did you think..?” But I had been avoiding telling him about new posts in case I ended up writing about him. I was right to be wary.

BND: “It was a good post, but in all honesty the only part I paid special attention to was the bit about me. I’ve gathered your opinion from the blog, so I’m guessing there’s no point in me putting that extra bit of effort in. What a stigma the concept of being a virgin is.” Ouch.

A: “I’m so sorry. I just don’t think I can do that to you. You wouldn’t want it to be with me, you deserve a lot better than me and my fucking disorder. I didn’t mean it to sound harsh.”

BND: “I’m not bothered by how harsh it sounded. Ohh A, you shouldn’t put yourself down like that. I’m not saying this just because it would be the clever thing to say, but it wouldn’t have bothered me. I’m nearly 18; the only thing that’s on my mind most of the time is just getting laid. Even if it was only the once I wouldn’t have been bothered.” The problem with it being only the once is that there would be no point, a human dilator is about regularity and progress. I wouldn’t have slept with Cas if it was just a one-time thing. The ‘one time’ would not be good.

I had absolutely no idea what to say in reply to him. What does one say in these sorts of situations? My opinion hadn’t changed, but I didn’t want to lose him. I decided to do nothing and proceed to leave the house for a BBQ round a friend’s house (the same one mentioned in my underwear post), I felt awful ignoring the problem, but sometimes that’s just all your mind lets you do. I sent him a quick text after several hours of feeling guilty saying ‘Sorry at (insert friend’s name here)’s, will talk later.’ Then who shows up, the Boy Next Door. Brilliant. Luckily this being quite a small party of all lads I didn’t have to talk about my feelings or be pulled aside to ask what I’m going to do about the situation. I sat there; eating meat and avoiding eye contact.

I’m just looking at it from a selfish point of view. I told him I wanted to have sex with him then took it away because of a ‘problem’ I labelled him with. That was an awful thing to do, I’m such a hypocrite. I have a ‘problem’; it’s just that people don’t know about mine. So now I’ve lost a really good friend because of this whole situation. It’s taught me that bluntness is not always right way, not everyone is the same. I think I was treating The Boy Next Door similarly to Casanova; assuming all guys are the same was not a good idea. I really regret doing that.

I texted him:

A: “You seem really really pissed off with me..” Needy girl alert.

BND: “Do I? Ah, I apologise.”

A: “I’m sorry too, I handled that whole thing very badly and am slightly regretting it now…” I decided to continue with the classic ‘…’.

BND: “What’s to be sorry about? You have your opinion for a reason. It’s fine by me. Don’t live your life worrying about regrets; just learn to do it differently next time.” He writes in a very pseudo-philosophical manner, sometimes it hard to figure out what he’s actually saying, ‘do it differently next time’ with him? Or just in life? Probably the latter considering that apart from the odd “Still being quiet..?” (again with the ‘…’) comment from me at school; we haven’t spoken since.

Confusion set in over the next couple of weeks of silent treatment, I decided to talk to Albus. Albus is called Albus because when he gives me advice/pep-talks he transforms from an immature, sex mad 18 year old with an air of lovable arrogance into this clear headed, wise, old man. I wanted to call him Confucius, imagining these moments of clarity secretly coming from a little Chinese man living in his head stroking his beard and contemplating the meaning of life, however Albus wanted to be named after Dumbledore. Does this make me Harry? Vaginismus is my Voldemort.

I first realised this silent brilliance last June, when he was asking me why I was still with Ben. I responded with this wonderfully poetic speech about how I loved him and wanted to end things on a good note in October when Ben left for uni. I can’t remember what I said exactly, but Albus did not fall for my fake sincerity like everyone who had asked me that very same question. He claimed there was a reason that I had not told anyone and “whatever that reason is, its crushing you”, that sentence took the air out of my lungs, no one else had noticed how much I was struggling to cope on my own and I have loved him to pieces for realising this ever since. 3 months later Albus asked me if there was something wrong with me sexually, he fucking GUESSED. I broke down and told him everything and he’s now my go-to-guy for Vaginismus related boy trouble; I confided in him about my BND situation:

Albus: “Well to put it bluntly, it’s a simple statement of fact; when it comes to guys you’re a head fuck to yourself and to the guys, unless that changes you’re going to be screwed for a while I’m afraid to say.” At this point I should probably mention that Albus is not the most eloquent of wizards.

A: “I’m a ‘head fuck’ in what way..?”

Albus: “Instead of doing shit you over think it.”

So really I should have just gone for it rather than (over)thinking about whether it was the most sensible decision or not. Sex blogs are not built upon sensible decisions.

But I do overthink everything, I have too. That’s my thing. But as the contents of this post shows; overthinking can ruin things. Cas was meticulously planned out; giving it a borderline clinical sense. Maybe the BND wouldn’t have been that. Maybe it was actually something. This situation has taught me many things about living and fucking with Vaginismus; the moral of the story is just go for it. Or as Albus put it; “Go hard or go home”.

Stay Sexy

xAx