Although I’m very pleased with my vagina, I do wish someone had told me, when I was young, just how much of my life I’d spend worrying about all the stuff that happened to drip out of it. Not that I resent the dripping exactly, it’s just I never anticipated there’d be so much of it. And that thanks to irregular periods and other vaginal surprises, it’s entirely unpredictable.
Once a month blood trickles from my vagina. I do beg your pardon for this – I know I should hide my monthly shame from you, because this is a sex blog and menstruation is grotesque, so I should really only talk about it in whispers. But it’s worth mentioning because a new product has arrived on the market that could mean I never have to show evidence of menstruation ever again – even when I am shagging the guy I am closest to in the whole wide world! Joy! Celebration! Let’s all pretend that periods don’t happen because if we think about it too much we’ll never fuck again!
Sometimes I want to arouse you. Sometimes I want to rant at you. I always want to entertain you. But occasionally I want to disgust you.
Partly because I think it’s important to highlight the fucking weird things we all do sometimes, because it makes everyone else feel a bit less weird about themselves. Partly because we’re constantly – constantly – told that experimenting with our bodies or enjoying them is dirty and bad and wrong (especially if we’re women).
But mostly because so much of what we think about sex is based on knee-jerk reactions, and when our knee-jerk reaction is one of disgust it’s worth examining why we feel disgusted. Is there a rational reason for it? Or is it, like that dildo made from human ashes, just something we condemn because our gut tells us we should?
But when I’m on my period, or just coming off it, the list of things that give me that ‘unngh’ feeling – the kick in the gut of lust that I bang on about so much in my book – expands to include a hell of a lot more.