I cannot refuse your eyes.

Please don’t look at me tonight.

You appear unexpectedly, my stomach drops at the sight of you.  All the butterflies drop dead and sink to my very core; foul and putrid like any hope I once had.

I don’t acknowledge you; you chose to not exist anymore. Your shadow still haunts me like a cold ghost.

A shred of emotion leaks from your person. That look, I remember that look. I grasp onto it for dear life, linger; knowing fully well this want will be the death of me.

The burn used to be a bonfire, blasting so high that everyone could feel its warmth. It went cold overnight; you brought the monsoon and held me responsible. You make me feel fault and all I can do is sit here and feel it burn into me like your eyes across the table.

 I still see those embers; flickers of light in your eyes. But I know, I truly know that we are dead; dead from the inside out, festering, a perfect rot. Still cannot resist revelling in fantasies, bleeding in through my ears and dancing in my mind.

My mind dances but I remain still; stagnant surrounded by smiles, twisting and turning around the table to an ambience of happiness. He’s happier without me, he definitely is. He surely is.

xAx

Just a quicky.

I feel a bit lost today. It may be the semi- severe hangover but a good percentage of it is down to the fact that I don’t have anything to do for a very long time. I feel like I should be doing something exciting. But as we all know excitement is expensive and the last few days of ‘hurray sixth form education is over’ celebrations have left me utterly spent.

So my time shall be spent thinking of things to write about, or doing things that will demoralise me but entertain you.

Stay Sexy

xAx

Reputation

We will be known forever by the tracks we leave.

So I got with a guy at a party who turned out to be more relevant in my town than I first thought. Now my town, let’s call it Vattsville for name’s sake. In this town everyone socially significant knows everyone socially significant. However I class myself as one of those people and did not know this person. I was very drunk and encouraged by several friends to get with this guy. Let’s call him Howl, as his All Saints t shirt had streaked across his chest those words exactly. I like a guy in All Saints, I’m not a brand racist or anything; it just seems that guys who love their All Saints and Urban Outfitters over their Ed Hardy and Superdry know what they’re doing. Fashion is as fickle as reputation. When you get it wrong, you live with the consequences for a long long time.

Anyway back to Vattsville; I was invited to a charity event last weekend which offered the prospect of a night off from the mundane activities of revision and consequently the brink of self-mutilation. Being a party animal forced into captivity by the shackles of education takes its toll on the best of us.

I walked into the ridiculously large marquee which revealed an abundance of boys and alcohol, laughing laced with the Buzzcocks’ seemingly suitable song ‘Ever Fallen in Love (with someone you shouldn’t)’ blasting through the speaker system.

“If you want a lift home you’re going to have to get with Howl” said my driver for the evening; I’d asked of Howl’s identity as soon as I had sat down, being the only face I didn’t recognise on our table. This is an incredibly rare occurrence that I didn’t know or at least know OF someone who was obviously close with a lot of my friends. After a couple of hours and more than a couple of drinks we got to talking with two other mutual friends.  Howl was funny; however this may have been because I was on my 4^th pint of Pimm’s at this point, and not my usual type (blonde AND a football player? No thanks – however give me a brunette rugby player any day of the week please) I fear the alcohol and general exam stress induced horniness may have been the reasoning behind my type shift.

I ended up getting tired of the general drunken flirting; (I am definitely that person who, when they get the signal, makes the first move simply out of boredom.) pulling him into the drinks tent and getting off with him seemed to be the best solution to this problem.

Everyone’s a lovely person when trying to pull. Many people will put on an act to get some action; I am happy to say that I am one of those people. Reputation is a funny thing, it can stop you from getting with someone but it can also keep you classy. It stops us from just getting with anyone based on looks or this fake forefront personality.

Annoyingly, no one told me of Howl’s reputation of being a fucking nutjob.  This probably a clear sign to get to know someone before I get with them; but after careful considering I’ve decided to ignore this. As you only live once. If we all gave a shit about people’s back stories then we wouldn’t have fun anecdotes such as ‘remember that time A got with a guy who turned out to be a nutjob?’. Even Cas; who has a pretty (and deservedly) bad reputation for sleeping with anything that moves. Who gives a shit, if I’d have given a shit about this I wouldn’t have had sex in 8 months; and that really isn’t acceptable.  

And what of my reputation you ask?

Stay Sexy

xAx

HELLO

So I’m here to apologise for the lack of new posts and to pre-empt the fact that this post shall be a load of bollocks. But you know what, I really don’t care.

I’ve been busy ok? Get over it.

I’m sorry, that was rude. How are you? WUBU2?

How did your exams go? Mine are going alrightish at the moment, I have one left which I really really really need to absolutely nail. No pressure. I’ve realised that I’m not good at exams and thanked all sorts of gods for the invention of coursework, no matter how much of a fucking pain it was at the time.

I’ve had sex once with Cas and it was a bit weird and tad awkward; mainly because I was sober. Well kind of. I drank what I thought was a substantial amount of Finlandia Mango Vodka during the day just before I went round his, turns out I’m more a heavyweight then I thought. Sobriety was firmly achieved.  I’ll probably do a more extensive post on why we haven’t had sex since this. It will be depressing and whiney but I DON’T CAAAARE.

(In other news I bought Frank Turner and Bon Iver’s new albums, which are both fucking incredible. If you enjoy good music you should definitely buy, beg or steal them.)

As you can see the combined effort of minimal sex, self-enforced learning and subsequently having no reason to leave the room in sleep in (which should really be appropriately renamed ‘The Hovel’) is causing me to rapidly turn insane. But not even the fun insane; more like the weird kind of insane that’s funny at first because they’ve gone foetal and are rocking back and forth but then it’s just sad because they don’t stop. I’M A CWAZY FUCKER.

I also have lost any form of hygiene routine; resulting in not looking in the mirror or changing out of the same pair of pyjamas for several days and finding that I look incredibly similar to this:

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTT it’s only like 8 days until this awful draught of socialising, showering and sexing is O-V-E-R. And we all know what that means:

You better have stayed sexy whilst I’ve been away…

xAx

FFS

I’m planning on turning up at Cas’ house in just underwear, stockings and heels covered by a wrap coat, is this too much of a cliché..?

And yes you’ve guessed it; Cas is back on the scene. We started texting again, reminising about our previous crysts and one thing in an English room cupboard led to another. So soon enough I’m daydreaming about leading him up to his bedroom, him grasping at my hips, pushing himself up against me and pressing my back up against the wall. He bites my bottom lip whilst running his fingers up my thighs; teasing me, sharpening my breath. Lifting my legs to wrap around his waist.

I was thinking about this image non-stop last night, into the early hours of the morning, obsessing and not sleeping, leading to the text ‘what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?’ being sent at 3am to a sleeping Cas. Hoping for a positive, sexy reply by the time I wake up.

‘At work until 6 tomorrow'

xAx

A Relatively Conclusive Post

Boy Next Door: I felt it was about time I re-introduced myself. I've read the new post, and I've been watching the blog recently to see if anything would pop up, and it did.

I suppose I should start with an apology, I'm sorry for not speaking to you for a while. I have my reasons. As you knew, I liked you, I'd built up hopes, and then they disappeared, and this was my way of dealing with it. I trust you understand the self-destructive thoughts you end up thinking when you dwell on someone you like, who, for whatever reason, doesn't like you. So that's why I've not spoken to you, because I don't want to get any feelings/hopes back again.

Secondly. It's a big co-incidence. Today I thought about speaking to you, just out of the blue, but I didn't get the opportunity I wanted, you were always busy speaking to people, or I had stuff that needed doing. So I though I'd text you. But after reading the blog I thought I ought to explain myself and this is way too long for a text.

I'll not ramble on any more. But just know, I don't blame you, don't feel guilty. X 

A: I'm glad you've reintroduced yourself :) I wasn't really sure what to say in the blog post but I thought it was about time The Boy Next Door was given an explanation.
I'm going to be honest, I didn't know how much you liked me, and I did actually like you, however the last few months have changed my perspective on affection. I don't want anything with anyone. I was interested in you as a replacement for Cas.
You liked me, I needed someone to have sex with. It wouldn't have been fair to treat you like that. I would never want to be in that sort of situation and I wouldn't conscientiously be able to put someone in that position.
I hope my fuck ups haven't completely destroyed our friendship, I felt comfortable enough with you to tell you about everything that's wrong with me but took advantage of you; using my disorder as an excuse to be a bitch. What I did was out of order and I'm really sorry for everything Boy Next Door. x

Boy Next Door: I wasn't in love of anything like that, it was nothing major, it was more just the glimmer of hope I had been waiting for. And haha, it is a shame the circumstances it really is! As I've said before..

And what annoyed me wasn't so much the way you treated me, I've had worse. More the hope. x

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