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

Stunted Progress

I began writing this post with the intention of taking a two month hiatus for my exam period, which finishes with the ultimate test of my maximum alcohol consumption in the last week of June. This being the reasonably sensible decision as obsessing over this blog takes up a shocking amount of my alone time I was planning on making this a reality, however as the story of my life seems to be going; the reasonably sensible decision is often not reality, and in realistic terms, not the bed I choose to have sex in.

I slept with Cas. I know; you don’t have to tell me, I know I’m an awful person. I did the thing I truly believed I wasn’t going to do; go back on my word. My moral ambiguity is not the focus of this post however, the actual action is.

The usual slow and steady routine of foreplay was ignored as we raced to be the first to remove the other’s clothes, I could tell instantaneously that Cas was no longer the hesitant human dilator I’d originally crept off into the darkness with; terrified to hurt me with every spine tingling touch. This new attitude was an incredible turn on; I felt normal for the first time in two and a half years’ worth of sex life. Of course there was the familiarly unfriendly pain that comes alongside any sort of sexual penetration but it had lessened each time we’d stumbled into bed. It can also be noted that this lessening of pain was coincidentally paralleled by a lessening of emotion; it was easy to see that Cas no longer had feelings for me. I'm not sure if this was necessarily a bad though; this was probably what I was like with him. No feelings, just sex.

I drag my blood red nails down his back as he goes deeper and deeper, pulling his dark hair and clutching desperately at his shoulders; my legs wrapped around the very being that is causing so much pain. With Cas I have this unconscious tendency to try and hurt him as much as he hurts me, even if it is hidden by nails on backs and some light hair pulling. Cas told me afterwards that he can never tell the difference between my pain noises and my pleasure noises, which I take solace in. Who would want to have sex with someone they knew they were hurting? A sadomasochistic, that’s who; “the only time I knew you were enjoying it was when I used my hands” but at least he wasn’t completely clueless.

Now I wouldn't usually go into this much detail of the actual sex itself (I'm all for reading a bit of graphic blogging like Jake Holden's blog, but who really wants to read the dirty details of me being in pain?) but on this occasion something interesting happened. We'd already had sex twice during these early hours of the morning and somehow ended up back in the throws, making the most of the weird and spontaneous way we'd ended up in bed together. I began to feel something, something new, nothing like pain. More of a sensation.

This sensation was shocking; it was only the beginnings, but I could feel it, actual pleasure. I can’t be particularly accurate as I wasn’t exactly timing this, but for what I imagined was the last 20/30 seconds of sex opened my eyes literally and metaphorically, leading me to the conclusion that sex can be fucking awesome. I smiled as Cas finished, then the realisation that we're probably never going to do that again flooded me. I felt a bit sad, not at the fact that whatever it was between myself and Cas was over, but at the fact that I was going to have to start over. Again. But I don't know, this was a good thing. I couldn't carry on like that with Cas, I couldn't do that to The Fit Girl. So the next day I bowed out as gracefully as I could. Leaving only the three condom wrappers shattered around my room to remind me that I was on the verge of enjoying sex.

It is a shame that I won't have a human dilator anymore, but I will happily give him up for that moment. The moment that, if only for a brief instance, was better than anything Ben or Mark ever gave me; a glimmer of normality. I owe him so much for that.

Stay Sexy

xAx

The Land Down Under

I once heard a comedian talking about obsessing over underwear and joking that it is in fact coordination that really gets a guy going. This has stuck with me ever since my breasts decided to sprout and my brain makes a point to reminisce over said joke every single time I am shopping for underwear; does coordination really matter?

On a poll on thestudentroom.co.uk 57 people voted ‘Hell Yeah! Sexy as hell’ towards matching underwear with a measly 4 people voting for ‘Prefer non-matching; More subtle, and therefore more sexy’. So what is it about matching undies that is so damn hot? Is it actually coordination that gets a guy going? Was that comedian onto something?

I have a tendency, such as many people my age, to not want to wear the same outfit twice. Sadly this avenue of thinking has led me down the path of underwear. I do not want to wear the same pair of sexy undies twice when having sex with/borderline-nakedly seducing someone. This idea is financially and physically draining; and my underwear collection has become eclectic and extensive because of this as I prefer to coordinate colour rather than straight up matching.

Giving me, as you can see above, a weird and wonderful spectrum of sexy colours. But as you can probably tell from the underwear collection collage I made last night, I prefer to wear black or pink.

So back to my original question: why is matching so hot? Apart the obvious scientific answer stating that coordination of colours and patterns is easier on the eyes I couldn’t seem to find a real answer to this question. So I asked around and my friend Lauren, the most coordinated person I know, said this:

“I love matching underwear, it makes everything more exciting! It makes my boyfriend still fancy me and you need to carry on fancying each other or everything gets boring.”

So is that it? Un-matching underwear is the epitome of comfort, when you’re settled with someone you don’t care what you wear because the reason they’re laid there in bed with you isn’t for the sex anymore. Well it probably is for the sex a bit; but I think every person who’s been in a relationship for a substantial amount of time can admit that they have donned the dreaded duck pants once or twice.

Or something equally as cringeworthy.

Many women say that wearing matching underwear ALL THE TIME, even when their not planning on seducing, is just normal. I admit I am this to an extent; I went to a BBQ this evening where I knew I was going to be the only female present, so before leaving the house I put on a lacy pair. I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone at said BBQ (I mean come on; who goes to a BBQ expecting to pull?) but I still slipped into those sexy pants nonetheless. But if I was going to an all girls BBQ I would not have done this, so it must be something to do with the possibility of sex.

Maybe it's like having a condom in your purse, even if you know you're never going to have sex in a pub. I personally have never just randomly had sex with someone on a night out but there's still a cheeky Durex in there, just to be safe.

Oh and just for the record; I love my duck pants. And if anyone wants to see me in the sexy, lacy, see-through numbers they better get ready to accept the ducks. Because isn't that a perfect metaphor for all the good things in life..? On the surface it's smokin hot with little bows... but deep down dear readers; life says 'quack' on it.

Stay Sexy

xAx

First Loves

This is completely and utterly the most contradictory post in comparison to my last, however I’d like to express my utmost concerns regarding my current love life situation. And yeah, I’m not talking sex life; I’m talking LOVE life. The L word. Let me give you the run down.

1.       Ben, the gorgeous Cambridge boy who left me high and dry with no thought or verbal accusation as to whether I wanted to carry on our crazy complicated and two year long relationship when the prospect of him going to uni came to light. It offends me that he didn’t even consider the fact that I loved him immensely. Then he has the audacity to come back happy, after all the shit I’ve put up over the past 6 months, with a fucking girlfriend! Not that I’m bitter or anything…

2.       Mark, the collective conspirator that, in combination with Ben’s efforts, has left me pretty much emotionally destroyed. I liked him a lot more than I let on in the original blog posts regarding the beginning of our relationship. Yeah, I said it; relationship. Because it was in fact a lot more emotionally serious than I let on. We’d been getting on well at sixth form before the end of this term – this is how I know he no longer shares the same feelings for me as I do for him; because we’re friends. If he did in fact have any form of affection left for me; we would have fallen out or would be shagging and/or very much in love by now. Either/or has not happened. So I’m forcibly convincing myself that his lack of feelings is the cause; failing to do so, but still trying my very best. This post by London Girl Up North sums up my current status when it comes to Mark.

3.       Cas, ahhh Cas; friend turned human dilator turned better friend. Abnormally since stopping sleeping together we’ve become closer. Though that may just be the backlash of sleeping together. I think I’d consider him one of my closest guy mates now, simply because he lets me complain about my crap love life and we online shop together. There may be unresolved feelings there; I’m not sure. Maybe, I don’t know. But he’s currently getting all fucked up by his ex Sophie, I do feel really bad for him, because I think if Ben was telling me he still wanted and loved me whilst still having a girlfriend (Sophie in fact HAS a boyfriend whilst telling him these horrible, selfish, lovey dovey things) I would still be getting naked for Ben whenever I took his fancy. But yeah; Cas is back from his holiday somewhere on the other side of the world on Friday and I’m actually looking forward to seeing him. Half in a friend way; half an I’d-really-like-to-feel-good-about-myself-right-now kind of way. Cas fulfils both these needs.

4.       Now we head towards to regions of unchartered territory. Let me introduce you to The Boy Next Door. We’ve drunkenly kissed twice but that was besides a mention; as many of my random drunk snogs are not dramatic or exciting enough to discuss. The BND is sweet, funny, smart, flirty and he knows about my disorder; this was a tactical tell as I correctly predicted that something was going to happen between us. He handled it very well when I told him so that’s a good sign… But we have a problem: The BND is a virgin. However being my usual untactful-when-drunk self I mentioned that the slot for a new human dilator needed filling (excuse the pun) and that he was a major consideration; but also raised my concerns about his lack of experience. He replied with “well you’ve gotta start somewhere”, like an overly optimistic puppy. Yes, everyone does have to start somewhere; but that somewhere does not necessarily have to be my cursed vagina. I would not want to lose my virginity to someone with Erectile Dysfunction; this is essentially that, with added pain and terror. I would also personally steer clear from someone with a sexual disorder, I would not make a good human dilator. I want to say to him “please go have sex with some people, gain some experience and then get back to me” but that’s harsh. I’m blunt, but I’m not harsh.

So that’s it, and all for now. Please feel free to shout at me to get a grip/give me helpful advice/just generally voice your opinion on any of the four points made in this post.

Oh and Stay Sexy

xAx


*BIG FAT UPDATE*

A conversation with Cas about 20 hours after this post was published:

Cas: "Did i mention i want you back? yeah, i do. but cant act upon it because of The Fit Girl."
A: "No you didn't mention that but i did kind of guess"

Cas: "Oh you guessed did you?" I wouldn't realistically say I guessed, I just assumed this was going to happen, Cas wants what he can't have.

A: "Yeah, I know you too well Cas. And why can't you act upon it?" I knew exactly why he couldn't act upon it "Are you and The Fit Girl getting more serious now?"

Cas: "No but i couldn't just leave it now. It would be awful, and so awkward when she comes into [generic place where Cas works] on her lunch break!"

A: "Riiiiight" So essentially, he doesn't want to 'break up' with The Fit Girl because it would be AWKWARD?!

Cas: "Anyway, going to sleep. See you soon! xxx"

FML.

A reason to not have sex.

This post is another announcement, an announcement that for the next two and a bit months I’m going to be incredibly boring.

Every revision ‘crunch time’ period something comes up in my love life to emotionally crush me. I’m exaggerating; it’s happened the last two times. But this time, this time, I am completely alone. No one to hurt me; which is fucking awesome for me, but incredibly boring for you dear reader.

Sadly I am one of those awful revisers that end up developing some strange version of Attention Deficit Disorder when faced with the prospect of study leave or those depressing term holidays in which you’re advised to spend either revising or drunk. So some dramatic and often ridiculous event in my love life gives me an amazing sidebar to concentrate all my mental, emotional and physical energy into.

But come on, revision is SO FUCKING MUNDANE! And not in a mundane 'Oh I need to do this for my future, motivation station' kind of way.



It’s more of an ‘OMFG seriously I’d rather be at school right now, anything but THIS!’ kind of way. I think the visual representation of this is:



Well, I don't know about you but this is me at the end of most of my 'revision sessions'. I hate those people who are like "Oh yes I've just finished 5 hours of revision", no you haven't; you've stared into space for at least an hour of that time, texted people and posted a facebook status regarding revision had several 'brain breaks', eaten a whole tub of ice cream, played with your new shiny revision gel pens and made a timetable. 5 hours, fuck off.

But anyway, I'm sidetracking, here's the real point of this post:

I’m completely and utterly lacking a love life or even a sex life; this could go one of two ways

1.            The new and growing popularity of the blog could reverse and hit an all-time low; resulting in my constant nagging need for popularity and attention not being fulfilled and driving me crazy until I do something outlandish and inappropriate just so I can write about it.

2.            This should be seen as a sign to get on with my revision until the end of June and focus on my future. Because then I can run around the UK on a quest for human dilators all summer long knowing full well that I can get away with it because I did fine I my exams.

Hmmmm… Are you seeing an obvious choice here too..?

I think there could be potential action with one or two people if I knocked it up a notch, but I think at this point exam-wise I shouldn't encourage drama, I should in fact embrace my singularity and briefly become asexual.

I’ve got with 24 people so far this year; most of them weren't interesting enough to write about, but I feel I have filled my guy/action quota for the time being. These randomers have produced some funny anecdotes though; which I could replicate in blog post form if you get bored of revision attempts too.

So my conclusion: put all my planning, scheming and general overthinking into my studies. Revise loads and if something fun comes along then that’s fine.

Stay Studious

xAx

Knockout

I could feel it in my bones; this was going to be painful no matter which way it went. I could feel it.

I slipped into my clothes cautiously; dark eyes, red lips. Friends all around me, the ones who knew me knew nothing was well in my head. This was the night that I was simultaneously bowled over by the three people I have shared a bed with in the space of three hours.

Let’s start with the first blow to the stomach. Minimal damage; temporary pain, but still pain. I began the evening with Kat, she’s been here through everything.

“You’ve been so much better since the whole Ben and Mark period” I denied the evolution of any form of independence, “no really, this is time for you A, even now things with Cas have finished, this is your time” she was a bit tipsy at this point so I’ll excuse this: “this is your time to shine!” Christ…

We walked through town; she stumbled with affectionate clichés as I attempted to take them seriously. We walked past a restaurant which has the entire outside wall made out of glass, displaying Cas on a date with The Fit Girl like a window display of ‘Look what you could have had if you weren’t such a heartless detached bitch’. I caught his eye; thank God that only Cas was facing my way… because my OTT drunk ‘omgomgomgomgomg’ face must have been a picture worth displaying on its own.

This wasn’t particularly hurtful; I never wanted that, I’m still pretty sure I don’t. I bounced back, got back in the ring.

Jittery would be the one word to describe me that fateful and destructive evening, unlike my usual routine of bursting into the pub with a look of confidence, look straight ahead, even if you are looking for people, and skip straight to the bar(I think I look lost without a drink in my hand, and I also think this may directly correlate with my inept ability to stay sober). Instead I cautiously stumbled into the building, darting around for a glimpse of the one person I was really hoping wasn’t going to turn up, despite the fact that we had briefly sent texts regarding this very event; this one person was Ben.

And of course he did, looking as pretty as he did when he left. I think I may have inwardly swooned when I saw him. Last time, I failed you dear reader. I completely wussed out of any form of contact with Ben, in my defence though I did have Mark as an excuse not to talk to him. But now I have no one. No one to excuse me from this emotionally torturous task.

I did it though, I manned up, bit the bullet. And it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. In fact, it was quite nice. I sound sad, but it was nice to just see him, and break the tension that had developed severely over Christmas. We sat on our own chatting for about 20 minutes, avoiding his friends who really REALLY hate me. It may just have been because he was drunk and I was on my way there, but we were quite touchy feely flirty, like as soon as we saw each other. He touched my waist, sat really close to me, pushed the hair away from my face and around my ear. I thought he was going to kiss me; then he told me...

“So how’s your love life then?” retorting to the very question he had just asked me, the one question I’d been dying to ask him, the only answer I was interested in.

“I…have a girlfriend” he said very matter-of-factly. DUN-DUN-DUUUUUN! this bowled me over, the verbal equivalent of being punched really hard in stomach.

“Oh” I left promptly after this monosyllabic statement. He seemed happy about telling me, he seemed like he was thinking about her and was happy. He didn’t tell me much about her, just her first name. I don’t know what I was thinking, Ben is a relationshippy person. We were together nearly two years, before me he had a girlfriend, his first proper girlfriend, for 6 months. Of course he’s found another one. I’m just one of a lifetime worth of girlfriends. Even though I nearly went two and half years of essentially being in relationships involving Ben and then Mark; people don’t consider me a relationshippy person, I don’t consider me a relationshippy person. Ben however, is. He slurred “we are so different” at one point during our conversation, he was bang on with that conclusion.

Anyway, back to the ‘Oh’, this pretty much rounded up the conversation, apart from him saying how at uni “you don’t have to be in a relationship to sleep with someone”, did he not realise that I knew this? I mentioned Cas. I think he thought I didn’t actually know this, let alone whether I’ve tried it. I hugged him, said how good it was to see him, kissed him on the cheek and left the club.

I got up and I left. I walked right out of there. It felt good, me walking away from Ben for once. The old me would have stayed and kept coming onto him until he wanted me again. I’m pretty sure I could have still got with him. But remember that strut that Cas was on about? Yeah, I did that. In a perfect world Alanis Morissette’s ‘You Oughta Know’ would be playing in the background.

Some time later that evening/early hours of the still drunk morning I find out that after I left in a “I’m like FUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOU!” manner, Mark decided to get with one of Ben’s friends. You remember, the ones that really REALLY hate me..? She’s super hot as well, brilliant. This event brought me down a peg or two. I had been trapped in a conversation with my mother earlier that day, and when I say trapped I mean literally trapped in a locked and moving car. She likes to question me about my love life when I have no exit strategy, and began to do so to her general standards of interrogation. I told her the truth, I have no love life.

Mark: “What did your mother say then?”

Me: “She was saying that I’m so scared of getting hurt by people that I shoot myself in the foot. I try so hard to be unemotional that guys end up thinking I don’t actually want them and do something to hurt me anyway. I nearly cried, fun times!”

Mark: “That does sound fun”

Me: “Was I actually like this with you? Was this what happened? And there were other factors too such as getting scared of being trapped in a relationship etc. It was a really nice car journey.”

Mark: “In a way yes that is what happened”

Me: “In a way..?” Should I just drop this?”

Mark: “Well half the time you were acting like we were together and then half the time you treated me like crap”

Me: “I think it was because I really really wanted to be with you but then I was worried about getting stuck in another relationship. Bipolar-esque I know. I’m sorry for when I treated you like crap.”

Mark: “Meh, I got over it ages ago”

OH OK!

Kick me whilst I’m down, thanks.

xAx

A Public Announcement

Calling all penises. I need a new one of you.

Yes, I know it’s not been a week, it has in fact been 3 days since I gave Cas the big “Pick me, chose me, fuck me” unromantic ultimatum speech through the medium of blog post. I just couldn’t be bothered to wait for rejection anymore. I know he wouldn’t choose me anyway; why choose the girl with Vaginismus when you can have The Fit Girl who doesn’t have Vaginismus? I’d choose The Fit Girl, I think everyone would.

So yeah, just thought I’d give you a cheeky update and put the word out there for a new human dilator; come one come all, literally.

Not literally. Please don't offer up your genitals to me unless they're outstanding.

Stay Sexy.

xAx