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.