Something I have dreaded for a very long time now....

I have always known that Lover is a patient man. He is slow to anger, always understanding, rarely raises his voice, is great with children and can always find a reason to smile. But it was only after my last doctor's appointment have I fully come to terms with how patient he actually is.

(Though an actually time frame will not be disclosed,) Lover and I started having sex very soon after our relationship started. Very soon. I was actually surprised when one day, when we found ourselves alone, I jumped on him and tore his clothes off. I mean it; I ripped the button right off of his pants and ripped along side the zipper. After we were done I had to mend his clothes.

I seem to be getting of the point, so I'm going to get back on it.

From the very beginning, intercourse was very painfully for me. At first we thought that maybe it was because he was, uh, well endowed (girth wise). So naturally we expected it to be a little awkward the first few times but after a while I would get use to it (and love it), right? Wrong. So when that became obviously not the problem we went through almost everything else you could possible imagine to try and fix the problem, but nothing was working.

Lover and I have been together for a very long time, and because of it we were each others first (aww, cute I know, only when I say first I mean first willing on my part and first-first for him), and for a while we even thought that was the problem. The other was nervous, it was a new thing, yada yada, blah blah blah. Nope, that wasn't it at all.

We have dealt with this problem for quite a while now - emphasis on quite a while. You would probably slap me if you knew how long I actually put off taking it as something seriously. But the reason I hadn't gone to the doctor's until just recently was because, well, I was nervous as hell. I was terrified that they would tell me that something was wrong with me, or something would pop up from my (very rough and unseemly) past that I didn't want Lover, nor anyone else, to know about. But after I saw what it was doing to Lover, how awful he felt because he thought he was hurting me, I finally dragged my ass to the doctors.

Well, I was right. There is something wrong with me.

Apparently, I have something a lot of women have; I just have a rare and extreme case of it. I don't know what it's called, and even if I did I probably couldn't spell it, but basically it is this:

Anytime upon penetration, I spasm up, not just down there but in there. Not willingly, mind you. This is all done without me even knowing it, and I have no way of telling that it is happening. It's some kind of muscle function that can be treated in any number of ways:

1. Shots in the area that is the problem (ow).
2. Dilators put in weekly that will eventually force the muscle to relax (yeah, force).
3. Physical and emotional therapy (Lover will have to involved).
4. Yoga (for my vagina).

None of this I am too happy with. I was scolded by my doctor for coming in so late ("after how long?"), but as soon as I started crying and yelling, "Of course I'm the one with the fucked up vagina. Yeah, leave it to good ol' fucking me..." the scolding ceased.

As soon as Lover gets back from his holiday trip we are going to the doctor for the official treatment, more questioning, and a painful exam that they assure me is necessary.

As much as I want Lover back, I'm terrified to go to the doctor's.

Misery: Day Nine (I'm like a diary)

I love psychology. I love criminal psychology. I love doing what I do. But there is a down side: I'm like a diary.

What I mean to say is: though I love when my friends trust me enough to tell me their problems and ask for my "professional" advice, sometimes it can be an unpleasant experience on my part. Like last night when I went over to Dear Friend H's house for a little girl time.

After nine cups of tea, chocolate, pasta and two movies, talking time came. And out it all spilled. There were tears and hugs and lots of listening (on my part) and lots of talking (on her part). It seems she and her boyfriend are in a little bit of a rut. He's immature, insensitive and makes her feel like he isn't passionate about their relationship anymore. After two ultimatums of leaving him unless he steps up and two "stepping ups" on his part followed by going back down the same old road, she was exasperated.

So I gave my advice, lots of hugs, and then we watched three more movies. But that wasn't the problem. I enjoyed helping her and get joy from thinking that I could save their relationship or help her pull her out of one that is mentally harming, it brought up memories on my part that I try my best to forget.

Before Lover, there was Ex. And Ex was mean, and violent, and threatening. And I was with him for a year of my life (I know! Shh!).

When we broke up it was not on great terms, mainly because I finally screamed that I never loved him, he scared me and I wanted to end it from week two, and he was loosing his obsession. It was a scary time for me and when I started seeing Lover and before we became an "official" couple, I had finally gotten over it.

But H telling me about her relationship problems was startling to me because so many aspects of their relationships was like mine. C (we shall call her boyfriend) changes when she threatens to leave and then falls back into the same old pattern, and Ex would stop being violent and start being nice to me, only to start again a week later, pulling me deeper and deeper into the trap that was our relation-shit.

Shudder. For at least the twentieth time this season, I am so glad I have Lover. Remind me to give him an extra big hug when he gets back from his trip.

Books, books, books.

I request a task from all:

I need the names of authors and their best books so I can read them. I just recently extinguished both the public library and the school's library of any books I could think of, so now I need some outside help.

And please, good books. I have the kind of book curse where even if it sucks, I will read it all the way through. So, the better the book the more grateful I will be.

Any kind of book; I read them all. I mean that too. I will read any book in front of me.

Also, if you could, more than one? I can read a good sized novel in a day.

Thanks all, very much!

In return, I could offer up some good books.

For example: Anything by Joyce Carol Oats is mind blowing. I especially recommend The Female of the Species, Beasts and Black Girl/White Girl.

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. Don't let the title fool you; it is a beautiful book with a wonderful meaning. If you can see past all the metaphors and understand what the book is telling you, as a human you will feel like a piece of shit (I know I did, but piece of shit in a good way).

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

More on request! Much love.

Misery: Day Four (Car Crash!)

Well, it wasn't really a car crash. I didn't hit another car, nor was much damage done to my car, but I did scream a lot and there was a broken head light involved.

It was like a scene from a bad movie: I was just sitting there, waiting at a stop light when all of a sudden my car started to move. There was lots of ice on the road, and I was attempting to get home safely, but as it turns out driving wasn't what I should have been worried about. I guess a patch of ice under my car gave out because it started sliding straight to a large pole, like a magnet. A car-pole-demon magnet.

Like the news always tells me to do, I didn't slam on the brakes. Rather, I screamed like a little girl and turned the wheel, trying to pull away from the pole and save what I was imaging to be a very frightful accident. But the car just kept sliding and, indeed, I did run into the pole. Reversing out of it was the worse because the pole started to jiggle back and forth and I thought it just my luck for it break at the bottom, crash on my car, and trap my burning corpse (because the car would no doubt spontaneously burst into flame) in the wreckage. Then I would have to be in the hospital for God knows how long, getting dead people's skin grafted to my ass.

All of this flashed through my head as I tried to save my car.

When I got home and was in a safe enough position to asses the damage, I was pleased to see that all that had happened was the plastic cover that protects my light was broken. Although that probably means that the light is also broken, it is not nearly as bad as it could have been. I could have caused a huge pileup, but thankfully I was not on a major road; I was waiting to turn onto one.

All's well that ends well, in the view of a teleological thinker (which I am not).

18

Misery: Day Three (Sledding!)

Today I went sledding with a few friends, something I haven't done in years. I thought that, despite the weather man, the thermometer and my basic instinct, that it would be warm enough to have fun. So even though I dressed in layers (long johns under my pants and two coats), it was not enough to fight back the extreme cold that is the winter weather.

While everyone else was having a good time and sledding away, I was only having while I was in motion. If I stood still for too long I lost feeling in my toes and fingers and before long my face was numb. But, being a good sport, I stayed for an hour before I finally gave up and headed home. As I type this, my fingers are still thawing out and I can just begin to wiggle my toes.

Last night I texted (lame) Lover for about half and hour before he headed off to bed (three hour time difference) and hearing from him tonight will hopefully speed the day up. It's day three and though I still miss him sorely it is getting a little better. Not a lot. Just a little. Maybe by the one week mark (in four days) it will be better. Maybe. I sure hope so.

On the job front, I just called and I should be called in for an interview soon and I am praying to God that I get it. Wish me luck!

Misery: Day One.

Lover left today for three weeks. Last night went by much too fast and after tears and promises of him contacting me everyday, we finally had to say goodbye.

Today went by so painfully slowly that I felt like screaming. I hear the first three days are the hardest, and once I am over them it will get much easier. But every time I think about him being gone from me for so long with inadequate means of communicating, my stomach starts squirming. I don't know how I'm going to get over these next three weeks.

What's worse is that school is ending this week for winter break. I thought that the break would make it easier, but after not going to school today (closed because of massive snow and ice banks) I realize that being busy will be the best thing for me. Now I only have four days left before I am left alone with my mind for two weeks.

Though there is good news: I am fairly sure I will be getting a job (about time) very soon, withing in the next week even. That being the case, I can work really, really hard the next three weeks, make lots of money and then take Lover out for a nice dinner when he gets back. So, cross your fingers and hope that I get this job, because I will need it.

I was hoping that I could hang out with friends over the break, but of course they all have boyfriends and they would rather spend colds nights with them than with me (I would do the same thing). Looks like that plan isn't going to work.

I can only read so many books before I go crazy, and though I love to read I'm sure that after about a week I will extinguish by ability to see print and I will have to find something else to do. And because all the teachers are being nice, I won't have much work to do, or at least not enough to keep my mind busy.

I am a sad little blob right now, and though on Thursday I predict I will be much better, I can't see that right now.

Help me, Blogger friends! Give me advice, something to do, before I explode with grief. I might just head for the ice cream and romantic Christmas movies if someone doesn't stop me now!!

(Hopefully my next Misery update will be a happy one... like how I won the powerball or how Jorge the Unicorn knitted me a sweater)