One of the strange things about my current relationship – as opposed to any other I’ve been in – is that I’ve forgotten how to get rejected. I know, right? Poor me. Please crack out the smallest violin you own and play a concerto in ‘Woe is GOTN.’ Rejection – and specifically sexual rejection – is something I used to have a lot of practise in. I knew how to take a ‘no’, and greet it with a shrug and a cuddle. I knew how to take ‘seriously? Now? AGAIN?’ and absorb it into my thick, thick skin, so it couldn’t pierce through to the soft bit inside me that – whisper it – needed sex to feel loved.
“You can’t ‘win’ at fucking, that’s not how it works,” my partner explains to me sternly, as he flips through settings on the Mysteryvibe Crescendo app. “It’s about how well we play together.” I’m temporarily sheepish in the face of his gentle chastisement, until he adds under his breath: “Besides, I’ll win.”
“She’s fucked so many guys, when we shag it’s like waving a stick in the Albert Hall.”
“Maybe her cunt’s normal and the problem is that toothpick you’re waving.”
Or maybe both dick and cunt are perfectly fine, and the problem is between your ears rather than in your pants. Let’s talk about bodyshaming and genitals.
Note that this post involves some graphic medical detail about injections and vaginal examinations during an IUD fitting.
The other day a woman put a big needle inside my vagina, and injected me three times in the cervix. I know you don’t like hearing this, my darling, but I really need you to know it. The other day, when getting an IUD fitted, I had three injections in my cervix.
This heatwave has now got so bad that even I am starting to miss cuddles. I’m normally far too into the banging to care about the post-fuck snuggles but… it’s getting to me, you know? The lack of human contact caused by the fact that I can’t successfully touch another human without either sticking to them or bursting into flames. So here are a few alternatives to cuddling in a heatwave.