Her or me.

I’m currently sat here waiting for my sexual fate to be handed to me. I feel like Dermot O’Leary is about to tell me whether I’ve made it to the Final. Cas likes someone. Possibly enough to stop sleeping with me. And making it even worse; she’s really really fit.

This threat of embargo began with Cas’ response to my invitation of a free house and lots of sex tomorrow night.

“Owwwhh this is all very nice but what about if/when it happens with me and The Fit Girl?” Obviously this girl is not actually called The Fit Girl; but she is not relevant enough to get an actual pseudonym. I do know her though, she’s a lovely girl and if I was a guy I totally would.

“I’m no other woman. If you want The Fit Girl more than me then I can’t stand in the way of that. If you actually LIKE her that is; because I’m fine with you just sleeping with her. You need to tell me if you actually like her though, because this thing is complicated and it isn’t fair on her to just be dragged into it.” Nice of me yeah? Stepping down despite this leading to consequences involving me going home to an empty bed and an unopened box of condoms.

“Yes yes I know, I’m meeting her tomorrow for a bit so I’ll be able to judge whether it’s going to go anywhere.” I think I’m being quite understanding of this whole issue him and his stupid penis-brain has thrust upon me. I don’t even know if he actually has feelings for The Fit Girl or he just wants to shag her. I can’t tell.

I realise when reading this you may interpret what I'm typing as simple jealously, and to be fair it is a bit, but it’s mainly my pride. Excuse the pun, but I like to be on top. I’d like to be the person that I’m getting with’s first choice. It is horrible being dropped for someone else, and being sat here feeling completely helpless about it does not help. The fresh wounds of the whole Mark and Little Double Slut thing were just starting to scab over, did I tell you they snogged at a random party? I think I announced it in a rage on Twitter a few weeks ago. They’ve been texting ever since. Mark really likes her. Brilliant.

The fact that there is no emotion there doesn’t help my cause either. Casanova seems to be wanting feelings and shit alongside the sex, which I am not currently in the position to give. I just can’t.

But no more sex? Do I pretend to have feelings for him to continue having sex? Is that just weird? That is just weird. And harsh. No, I can’t do that. I think deep down most people can’t handle sex without feelings; I honestly didn’t think I could. It’s worrying that I seem to have. And before you say it; yes I know I have an ATTACHMENT to him, but not feelings, not actual affection. I think this may be my problem with relationships; personally I don’t consider relationships to be about emotional and affection or even love. They are all about consistency. Cas is the closest thing I have to a relationship because I have consistently relied on him for sex, amusement and fun. Not lovey dovey crap. However I’m not sure how he feels about this sort of thing, not fully. It’s not fair on him to pretend I have the affection for him that he hints at possessing for me. Even if it is the easier option.

It’s just so frustrating having to start again, with someone new. Having to tell them everything. I don’t want Cas to feel obliged to sleep with me but it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy the experience. In fact he enjoyed it twice on Friday night! I don’t trust anyone else with my secret and all the other guys that know about the blog and my vaginismus are either exes, best friends or have long term girlfriends.

So here I am; waiting, listening to the Vaccines’ “Post Break Up Sex”, relating to the words as one always does in these ‘sit and reflect on your current situation’ situations. What else can I do..?

I have no dramatic Grey’s Anatomy style speeches to give to Cas. Only my stupid vagina, and it’s stupid problem to solve.

Pick me.

Choose me.

Fuck ME.

xAx


A small update:

Cas: that post is basically to me
Me: YEP
Cas: and I'm now in a horrible position. I hate you so much.
Me: YEP
Cas: She's better than i thought, and a good kisser. But i really will feel awful dumping you
Me: I've written everything i could say in the blog. Do what you think you should do.
Cas is offline.

My Seven Deadly Massive Flaws

You know some people are really happy, like genuinely content with their lives? I am not one of these people; I’m competitive, narcissistic, a gossip, pessimistic, lazy, often melodramatic and very angry. Let's start at the beginning shall we:

Competitive: I’m the hypocritical type of competitive. Only when it comes to things I’m good at does this sin come out to play; fighting, writing and flirting. And when I mean fighting I mean physically, not verbally; I like to think I have a way with words when writing them down, but when faced with having to think of them in a fraction of a second I often turn quite red and a blubbering mess. Preferring to opt for the classic “oh just fuck off” and punch to the lower body than producing a structured and well thought out reply. Confrontation can be saved for another post. My competitiveness for writing is simply because I think I’m better at it than other people, it’s been a life-long passion, literally from as soon as I could write in actual sensical sentences (and I know ‘sensical’ isn’t a word, because I’m good at writing, but I don’t care!); so when it comes to A2 level pieces of creative writing coursework, I tend to get a. competitive and b. high and mighty. Luckily for me and unlucky for everyone else if the fact that this behaviour is backed up by my grades in English Language and Literature; SO THERE’S NO STOPPING ME NOW BITCHES.

Narcissistic: It’s slowly getting into the early hours of the morning. I should be sleeping right now; but I’m lying in bed writing about myself. I don’t care that it’s about what’s wrong with me; it’s still about ME. I have a wall of Post-It notes in my bedroom, a big sticky to-do list; one of these to-dos is my new year’s resolution: “be less self-obsessed”. I’m obsessing about being self-obsessed; That’s how self-obsessed I am. I’m obsessed about what people think about me, how my actions will make me look, and how I can get people to think that I’m not thinking this. I think I may just change this paragraph to ‘mentalist’.

Gossip: This is not just gossiping about other people, this is gossiping about myself too. This may even stem from the self-obsessed flaw. Telling people things that will make them gasp and hang on my every word gives me the most horrendous pleasure; just the *gasp* “NO!” and the ability to nod my head, widen my eyes and feel my lips curl into a smile and a reply “YES!”. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not a rumour spreader. I tell these things to close friends who I would trust with my life. And if someone asks me to keep something a secret, I will take it to the grave. I think this would be the opposite of a sin – loyalty is a strong point.  And I do exactly the same thing with news about myself, I managed to keep the night of closure with Mark from my close friends, and for a good long while; Vaginismus. I never particularly thought I was a sharing person, but actually, eventually, I tell people most things.

Pessimism: Dark and Twisty is one of my well known identifiers. On a more contemporary basis; I’ve become more pessimistic in terms of relationships. I think I’ve just decided that they will not in fact work out. The first time I kissed Mark felt like the happy ending at the end of the film, dramatic happy music surrounding us instead of cheering drunken teenagers. What are we going to do about university? As in a year in the future. This is how hopeful I was that we were going to work out; that I’d actually found, at the age of just 18, that person I just…fitted with. I’d never felt like that with Ben. But jeez, how wrong was i?! So yes, back to Miss Dark and Twisty. I do have occasional spurts of optimism I’ll have you know; but I’m sure you’ve gathered from my many depressing posts and tweets that in the general consensus of things. I am a pessimist. And this is a severely controlling factor for all my thoughts, actions and relationships. I don’t just think or believe it; I assume they will end badly.

Lazy: I’m lazy with school work, lazy with emotion, lazy with my problems. Laziness may just be induced by a severe amount of pessimism. Take dilating for example; I REALLY don’t do it as often as I should, because there are moments when I catch myself in the bathroom mirror; I see the utter despair in my eyes. I am lazy to avoid seeing myself that fucking vulnerable, in that much pain due to my own infliction; it’s a horrible sight to see anyone else is pain, let alone yourself.

Melodramatic: MELODRAMA IS MY FORTE AND HYPERBOLE IS MY SPECIALITY!!! Yes dear readers, I exaggerate. An exaggeration is a truth that has lost its temper. The smallest of things can turn into the biggest of dramas. This is one of my biggest flaws in a relationship; when things settle down, things are boring. A bit of drama goes a long way. However I wouldn’t consider, and I don’t think my friends consider myself to be a drama queen. I don’t create drama, I simply thrive upon it. It’s a necessity. There is an old proverb that says to exaggerate is to paint a snake and add legs; my snake has fur, wings, tusks and meows.

Anger: I’m sure you relish in the fact that I’m currently quite hormonal and therefore incredibly angry at the world for the next 4 days or so. Personally, I think having a disorder that affects your sex life in the hugest of ways is a fair reason to be angry a lot of the time. Sex is painful for me; and it makes me very, VERY angry. Sadly punching the wall through teary eyes because I’ve had to stop half way through is not the equivalent to sighing, lighting a fag and proclaiming “you were amazing”. One of my favourite authors Frederick Buechner defines anger in a beautifully sadistic manner:  “Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savour to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back -- in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.”

So there you have it, what I believe to be my seven deadly massive flaws. Maybe these aren’t even my real flaws. I think they’re just sins.  Aren’t a person’s real flaws meant to be the ones they don’t even know themselves? I don’t know; how would I know by that logic?

Stay Sinful
xAx

*Copyright for two of these pictures - Allie Brosh. Read http://www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ it's fucking amazing*

Diary of a Human Dilator

I’ve been thinking; as much as a large majority of my posts focus around swirly and often disjointed story lines about boys, I’ve never given you the boy’s perspective. And now I’m in the privileged position to be occasionally sleeping with a semi-literate human dilator who knows about the blog, is a regular reader and has a recurring role; it would be a shame not to abuse this as much as I abuse him right?

……………….

Let’s start with the truth shall we?  Sleeping with A didn’t exactly happen how/why I first imagined it would.

From Day 1 of Sixth Form I had a burning desire for A; I found her incredibly sexy. I wouldn’t have said, “yeah, she’s beautiful/gorgeous/pretty”, I would’ve said “she’s really hot, and I really want to fuck her.” I don’t know what it was that made me want her, I don’t know what it is that makes me want her again and again. I think it may have been the persona; the impression I get from her. She knows she’s hot and she knows other people think she’s hot, to be fair to her she plays on this very well. The thing I notice most is The Strut. I’m convinced she’s taught herself this special walk; perfected it through years of practice. No, that’s just me being sad, but in all seriousness: IT IS SEXY.

As I was saying, I had this longing for her, in a completely sexual way. When we first properly met I had a girlfriend, and A was getting close to Mark. Me and A picked the same option for Thursday mornings at the start of year 13; and I suppose this is where it all started. I had my complaints about my girlfriend and A had hers about Mark. There was a spark there, definitely. I think it was just that we’re very similar but in weird ways. So yeah, we got closer and closer until one Wednesday evening I get a text saying something along the lines of:

 “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I’ve decided I’m going to tell you something about me tomorrow morning that not many people know.” I panicked. A quickly confirmed it wasn’t cancer which put my mind at rest for a while; then I started to wonder, “what the fuck is it then?”

Thursday morning came and she told me all about V and this blog I’m now starring in, which I read in an awkward silence as A tried to look busy. I finished reading it and wanted to give her a hug- the stubborn bitch was having none of it- made me feel a right tit.

Fast forward a few months, Sophie (my ex) and I are over, and the whole Mark thing got seriously screwed up (as I’m sure you have read!). At this point sleeping with her wasn’t the first thing that popped in to my head; but as the weeks went on, A had no one to piss about with and I guess I was just there! There was a mutual attraction, and we’d got together a few times on drunken nights out. Then it became a little more serious. I made it clear to A I was willing to be a human dilator, partly because I genuinely wanted to help a mate, and partly because that burning desire I mentioned earlier was still there.

I don’t know why, but she took a while to accept my proposal. She did accept it in the end, and after that the night of her shindig approached quickly. I remember texting A a few days before, asking the crucial question: “shall I bring any, err...? x” When she replied with a yes, I started to believe I was actually going to have sex with A! This was very good news.

There were already a lot of people there when I arrived at A’s house and I have to say I was pretty content with whom I was (potentially) sleeping with that night... She looked hot, I’m telling you. In fact, it can’t have taken us much longer than an hour to sneak off somewhere for the first time. It was all very well planned; even though we were metres away we would be texting each other, looking for the next opportunity for excitement. And if we weren’t texting there would be discreet passing comments, “upstairs in two...” No reply would be needed. 

From arriving and playing a bit of poker to getting the last text of the night from A saying “I’m going to bed...” it’s all rather a blur. I remember having a drunken sing-along session with a few people; I remember playing pool a few times; and I remember going to vacant rooms with A for a few snogs. But honestly, that’s all I can clearly remember.

Back to that text. I won’t lie to you; I didn’t need to be hinted at twice. Within a couple of minutes of reading that text I had said “I’m off to bed, night” to the others and gone up the stairs towards A’s room. I bet I did one of them walks where you want to sprint but you can’t, so just end up looking stupid. It didn’t matter, no one saw.

I got to the end of the landing and knocked on the door, confirming my identity. A let me in and shut the door firmly behind me. Before either of us could speak a word we were at it again- her back to the wall this time. Hands searching all over each other’s bodies, it wasn’t long ‘till my t-shirt was off. Our lips still locked, I spun A round so her back was to the bed. I slowly started to take steps forward, urging A to edge back closer to the bed. Now, I don’t remember feeling that drunk, but I can’t have been in total control because I didn’t judge how far away the bed was, and we ending up tumbling onto it and laughing quietly. This also didn’t matter, we were enjoying ourselves.

We proceeded to get into bed, most of our clothes already littering A’s bedroom floor. I was having a lot of fun, it seemed like A was too. I’m pretty sure I made all of the ‘first moves’ up until the actual sex part- that I was unsure about, I left it for A to decide as and when we did that.

After a lengthy, but very enjoyable ‘warm up’, she eventually said it. She was ready. I was definitely ready, but slightly scared too. My biggest fear was causing any terrible pain, I really, really didn’t want to do that, because if I did it would turn me off hugely, let alone A. Despite saying “sorry, is it hurting?” a few times, I really enjoyed it- it wasn’t at all what I expected, but I’m guessing A just has a pretty high pain threshold. So, even when she let me know she’d had enough, I was pretty satisfied. Mentally anyway. Weirdly, it didn’t bother me that I didn’t ‘finish’, as such.

Perhaps the most surprising, and pleasing thing came after the sex. I was shocked. I expected a sort of “wham, bam, thank you mam” scenario from A, but I got the opposite. We spoke for a while, and then she rolled over, picked up my arm and put it round her body. This satisfied me the most; as despite the pseudonym A has assigned to me and my role in this blog, I love to be cuddled up to. What a soppy git I am.

Cas 

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Blurry and Failing

I imagine this is an incredibly clichéd opinion of a very clichéd 18 year old girl, but when I look around me, it’s all a blur. There are no solid colours. It’s all a bright light world and I’m spinning around and around and around and around and around and hoping I can stop to embrace some still picture. It doesn’t stop though, it keeps on going, on and on, the world does not stop. The problems blurring your vision don’t stop to let you sit and figure out how to stop them. They keep on spinning you, pushing into you, taking your breath and thought process so much that you end up spinning into some place you never wanted to be. Your picture shouldn’t be like this but you can’t change it, you just have to look at it every single day.

I want to apologise for my last two really shitty and pointless entries, I know I’ve been neglecting you but I can’t help it. My brain has turned into a coursework shaped mush; I have a pseudo love life with Cas that stops me from progressing or even bothering to look for other people; and I’ve been ridiculously ill, you know, one of those coughy/mucusy/throaty/snotty things. Not hot. Oh and my laptop briefly broke, that wasn’t hot either. I was literally like this:

                                                                          “Work. Now.”

So I’m going to ignore complaining about my coursework and my various diseases and get straight to the sexy bits. Don’t fret though dear reader; I will still be complaining.

My pseudo boyf/human dilator/sex buddy/general love life distractor Cas has become more of a regular thing now, verified by the fact that his parents now think we’re on the verge of being together. To be perfectly honest; I’d rather they think that than “oh that nice girl A came round to use our son as a human dilator again so she can recover from Vaginismus” which is also the same reason my usually well informed mother needs to know nothing about this little faux thang. Yeah I just said ‘thang’.

We have formed this very odd relationship, if anything he has pushed me into heartless bitch territory; completely rejecting any remotely ‘I’m falling for you’/sweet thing he says. He’s known from the beginning what this has been about. Originally it was pure lust and the thrill of something new and flirty and distracting, now it’s simply two sexy friends helping each other out; him helping me with V and me helping him get over his ex girlfriend.

These objectives in question; have been achieved to a 50% standard.  I’ve had less need for dilators and the pain levels have lowered a little bit, which is my personal goal. He however is still pretty torn up over this girl; I feel like I haven’t fulfilled my purpose, and considering how well he’s holding up his end of the bargain; like I’ve failed him.

I might have to amp up the seductive; give him something worth paying attention to. In other words:

Stay Distracted

xAx

TYRA MAIL!!!

This is really interesting; I actually watched it after that cunt Maypaki posted it as a comment. Thanks babe!
I know it sounds bad, but it's nice to know that my vaginismus isn't as bad as this. It's also odd to see how similar this woman's experiences are to what trying to have sex two years ago was like for me. I'm so happy to have come along this far; if you suffer as much as the poor woman in this video I really feel for you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VLhakQJiibc

xAx

My Pleasure

I have a feeling I’m becoming a sadomasochist, is that a risk of Vaginismus? Your brain begins to associate pleasure with the pain. I fucking hope not.

I once took psychology, so I think this is a vaguely plausible opinion; if you condition yourself to a certain behaviour or association of two parts of the brain working simultaneously (such as experiencing the pleasure of getting it on and the pain of the sex act itself) through no fault of their own, one’s brain could ‘learn’ to associate the two. My whole point in this post is that I had sex last night, like actual penetrative sex, and it wasn’t as painful as the last time by a long mile, but it also wasn’t very good for me. Is my brain leaving me behind and becoming a sadomasochist; whilst I’m just laid there during normal sex, hoping for some form of orgasm?

Anyway, that's all for now.

Stay Sadomasochistic!

xAx