In my first post I mentioned my divorce… Well, it probably won’t shock too many of you to learn there were several reasons for such an event. Now, don’t think I blame myself entirely for that, it takes two to tango, but I can own up to this one…
I found sex physically painful. So much so, I would have been quite happy to avoid it with my ex altogether. I suffered from something called vaginismus,which is basically painful intercourse with a side of crippling guilt (thank you very much).
I struggled with this since I became sexually active at seventeen (legal age of consent in my land…I was a good girl!).
I was in a long lingering first love which had it’s share of drama and woe and when the time came to do the deed, so to speak, I braced for the forewarned pain… And boy, they weren’t kidding about that!
There was pain alright. So much pain, my first time was a bitterly disappointing non-event and I felt so guilty. There was obviously something wrong with me. I decided maybe it actually happened to everyone and it just wasn’t talked about because everyone found it so embarrassing… It would be fine, I decided. The second time would be easier… right?
Nope! Pain, pain, shame and more pain It was apparently an impossible ask of my body. What the fuck was wrong with me?!
I tried to research my issue but it unfortunately wasn’t a hot topic for women’s magazines or websites at that time, and I was much too embarrassed to try and discuss it with my girlfriends, so I decided to try a woman’s Wellness Centre and I’ll be damned; they had actually heard of it! It was actually a thing and I was saved at long last!
As it turned out the “saving” wasn’t a quick-fix and although things were improving on the whole vaginal front, I wasn’t going to be swinging from The rafters in ecstasy any time soon. The treatment involved counselling sessions and physical exercises and it just wasn’t happening fast enough for my certain someone. The guy I was with tried to be understanding and patient but he was a horny frustrated teenager when all was said and done, so after a year of sexual disasters he eventually exploded (verbally guys, it’s just an expression) and informed me I was lucky he was still around because most guys would have been long gone… And eventually he was gone.
After that relationship ended, there were other somewhat sexual encounters to be had. I didn’t do the sessions anymore and relied heavily on alcohol to get me through the inevitable fumbles.
So, fast-forward a few years to when I met my future husband. He worked as a bar man so I was always alcohol adjacent and I had reached a point where I could physically have sex, convincing myself it was all so wonderful and I was totally normal.
Try as I might, I couldn’t rely on booze all the time, and sex became painful again. I stopped even wanting to bother because I was sick of feeling guilty and humiliated when he demanded dress-up and role play and I couldn’t even let him enter me! It made everything stagnant and in the end he found somebody else.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Performance anxiety had a lot to do with my sexual problems. I didn’t want to let him or the first boyfriend down. No-strings sex was so much easier and enjoyable because I didn’t give a fuck about my performance and how my partner saw me.
This naughty little story does have a happy ending though – pun totally intended – I am now in a happy long-term relationship full of exciting sex and void of alcohol, and I’m actually getting quite good at swinging from those rafters!
There’s a juicy one for y’all as promised. Feel free to join in the conversation!
Josephine Blue x