So I keep going to write about stuff and then I chicken out because I don't know what people would think and then I remember that that is completely stupid, because that is the point of anonymous letters right? So, here goes:
Don't ask me why, but recently I've been getting really stressed about the V problem. I know that this is stupid given that I currently don't have any reason to think about it, or need to have to be concerned about it and have actually had some success and blah blah blah, but I haven't been able to stop the dreams and little freak outs I have been having.
I started crying about it the other day- which is really fucking weird, you know I don't do crying. And it was all because I had this random thought of How the hell would I explain this? and I realised that I had no idea. As in, I now know what the score is medically, I can describe what technically happens i.e this muscle has a psychosomatic reaction triggered by X, but how would I explain that to someone else??
"Umm my ex boyfriend broke me, so now I can't have sex any more?"
Seriously, how goddamn insane does that sound? Is it just me, or does it totally sound like a bullshit excuse?
"Honestly, it's not because I don't want to, it's just because my body is hardwired to panic."
Yeah, that's really going to fly with a normal male in their mid to late 20s. I don't think so! I would be lucky for someone to even fucking stick around long enough for me to finish the sentence.
Yeah, okay they might SAY that they are cool with it, but we both know that that is a load of shit. Melbourne Boy was the only one who genuinely didn't mind, and I think that's just because he knew he wouldn't have to deal with it long term.
Let's face it, once you reach a certain age, unless you are religious, it is automatically assumed that dating= sex and who the hell wants to be with someone who you know won't sleep with you. I know it's because I actually can't, but who's going to believe that?
Even if they do, it still doesn't change the outcome.
I had hoped oh so long ago, that my fabulous personality (lol) would be enough to hook someone, at least to the point where I could explain the situation and they would like me enough to wait it out/work on it. But the sad truth is that the older I get and the more people I meet, the more I realise that that is completely unrealistic. People have sex, THEN get to know eachother, it is just the way that it rolls. And I don't have an issue with that, except that that's not even an option for me.
And what shits me, more than you will ever know, is that was the whole point of my being with you in the first place. YOU were meant to stick around, YOU who waited for FOUR YEARS to touch me, were meant to put that extensive patience to use, just for a little while longer. I should have been able to fix this with YOU, but instead, YOU CAUSED IT! Then you fucking bolted, because you couldn't deal. And then you have the audacity to say that that had nothing to do with us breaking up- really?
And now I'm meant to trust someone else??
How? How the fuck am I supposed to do that when the person who was seemingly perfect, whom was in love with me for years, but waited til I was ready literally ripped me apart, then didn't even stick around to clean up the mess. Christ, you couldn't even LOOK at me afterwards and I can't help but think, if someone who loved me as much as you did could do that, I'm screwed.
That's the truth of it really, it's not the physical pain that puts me off, I could go through that again if I had to, it's that I am absolutely, totally and utterly petrified of the morning after. That is what stops me. And that is why I turn them down, and that is why they never bother to call me, or contact me again. As soon as we have The Conversation, that's it, they're out.
And meanwhile you, you bastard, gets off scot free and can shag whomever you want. I envy you that, I really do. And I hate you for it, because you are the one who caused the damage, but I am the one who has to live with the consequences.
And that is why you are no longer a part of my life, because you have no concept of the pain you caused, and the only way I can live with it, is to know that at least, at the end of the day, you don't get to have me. Not even as a friend. You gave up those rights a long time ago.