Vaginismus and the Downside of Chivalry

Very few times in my life have I met a true gentleman. Men have come close and boys have come nowhere near. It brings a tear to my eye that when I actually experience one, it frustrates me beyond belief. Why? Because my disorder fucks it up.

Michael clutched at my waist and urged me across to the edge of the kitchen counter, to where my lips slowly met his. My legs wrapped themselves around his lower back and pulled him closer. I ran my fingers through his thick brown hair, jumped down from the counter, getting closer and closer still.

Our lips separated to my dismay. He stepped back.

“I can’t do this” SAY WUUUT?

“Why?!” I asked with an obvious mixture of disappointment, frustration and shock.

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you” to be fair I was VERY drunk, but I thought he was too, “you’re so drunk and I’m basically sober”. Ah. Turns out I was so drunk I didn’t realise that he wasn’t at all.

“It’s fine I don’t care” I said slightly desperately. I was too drunk to care about Vaginismus, despite it being constantly present in the back of my mind; scratching away. That is probably a really bad alcohol level to normal person, but for someone with Vaginismus ; being this drunk is appropriate pain relief.

“No. I’m sorry. I really really REALLY want to have sex with you, trust me, I do. I just don’t want you to wake up in morning and regret it” Oh for fucks sake. He untangled himself from me, I pouted.

“Fine”

“Tomorrow night? When we’re both sober?” NO YOU FUCKING MORON I CAN’T HAVE SEX WITH YOU WHEN I’M SOBER BECAUSE I HAVEN’T HAD SEX SINCE MAY SO IT’S GOING TO FUCKING HURT! I decided that probably wasn’t the best thing to say at this point;

“That’s probably not going to happen, Michael”

I’m going to be totally honest; my Vaginismus has got to the stage where I’m actually really scared of having sex. I didn’t used to be scared, I was never scared of the pain or even the embarrassment of sex not going well, but I am now. I’ve experienced the worst of it and now know it is in fact a pain to be scared of. I think the physical:psychological ratio is probably about 1:1 now. The thing I was dreading the most has happened. It’s just as much in my head now as it is physical. I don’t think I am ever going to except that it is in my head, because it didn’t start in my head. Great, now I just sound mental, but I haven’t had sex since. Not having sex for that long has its effects on the best of us, and I’m the worst of us.

Maybe it is psychological and I am actually just mental. I’m putting too much pressure on myself to pretend that nothing is wrong with me. Or maybe I just don’t trust Michael to continue being a gentleman and not tell anyone if something went wrong. When something went wrong.  Oh and if you were wondering, there was no ‘tomorrow night’ in the end. I don’t like him enough to take on a challenge as huge as having sex with someone who doesn’t know about me let alone having sex sober.

Apparently Michael likes me and didn’t ‘take advantage’ of me BECAUSE he really likes me. Christ. That night proved that being the object of someone’s affections is not a good thing. Him having feelings for me stopped me from getting laid. What a selfish twat. Did he not think that if I didn’t want him to take advantage of me then I wouldn’t have brought him back to mine?! Emotions just ruin everything.

Actually, no. Psychology ruins everything.

Stay Sexy

Alura x

My heart won't be your ragdoll anymore.

“I don’t really know what you were trying to prove last night Mark. I would say you ruined my night but if I’m honest it really was the clarification I needed to realise how much of an arse you actually are. If your aim was to stop me from even attempting to be your friend then congratulations! I really thought we’d moved on from all this bitter bullshit but obviously you haven’t; so I’ll do us both a favour and try my very best to act like I don’t know, since you clearly don’t know how to function if we don’t hate or love each other” I took a brief breath of relief and waited for a reply. 
 

“I like it, very powerful”

“Thank you, so… send?”

“Oh no, no way in hell should you send that”

“Why not?!” I asked aggressively, slightly offended that they weren’t agreeing with me, “it’s good!”

“It is good… and it will make him feel like shit…”

“But..?”

“What did he ACTUALLY do though, really?” I jumped to defend my accusation, but instead paused and let out a disappointed sigh.

“Nothing. He didn’t actually do anything” I looked down at the floor, defeated and confused.

“Exactly” said my friend, who had suddenly decided to become Devil’s Advocate rather than doing the appropriate thing and support my ideas, “all Mark really did was see you at the union, then sent you some texts that messed with your head simply because he’s a twat and was bored. Come to think of it, it was probably because he hadn’t made any friends”

“He was basically own his own whenever I saw him” I stopped angrily typing insults and put my phone down the kitchen counter, picking up a glass of wine to replace it. 

“Exactly. Plus, think about it; if he replies it won’t be the apology you’re looking for, it will be something juvenile and bitchy like just replying ‘k’ and then you will kick off” I do get really pissed off when people say ‘k’ in reply to an emotional outburst, “and if he doesn’t reply at all, you will be stuck to your phone for the next few weeks until you finally send the evitable drunk ‘you’re a cunt’ text” it’s true; I would.

“Urgh, I hate it when you’re right”

“And turn the bloody depressing music off, you look suicidal” Pouting, I changed the song from Maroon 5’s ‘Ragdoll’ flicking through shuffle on my iPod trying to find a song to ease me into cheerfulness.

You are not what you seem, you are a mystery to me, sometimes I just wanna scream.

“I suppose it would make things even worse than they already are when we both come home for Christmas” I was slowly coming round to Advocate’s way of thinking, “I’m fairly sure I’ll have shaken the need to knock his lights out by then” I walked into the pantry, phone in one hand, empty glass in the other looking for more wine when my phone buzzed.

“Low battery, brilliant” on autopilot I clicked onto to my inbox and scrolled down the texts Mark sent me that evening; varying from ‘nice top’ to ‘don’t worry I don’t count you, I’d rather make myself out to be inexperienced than tell people we had sex’ to ‘I’m texting you because it’s fun’.

I still feel like I really REALLY need to have that final showdown with him, where I finally say all those things that ive wanted to say for a very long year.

But for now?

DELETE CONTACT?

Fuck yes.

My heart won’t be your ragdoll anymore.

xAx