January 31st 2024.
Despite all of our efforts, my date and I were unable to have penetrative sex. The mere mention of it sends shivers down my spine, reminding me of the countless failed attempts we've had. It's a painful and embarrassing topic for me, but I can't help but think back to that one night when we were alone in my room, tangled up in each other's limbs. We had been waiting for this moment for so long, and yet, when he tried to enter me, my body refused to cooperate. My legs and arms tensed up, creating a barrier where my vagina should have been. It was a shock for both of us, as I had been looking forward to this moment with him for a while. He's such a wonderful person, and I had been dreaming of the day we could be alone like this.
But instead of continuing, he got off of me with a sympathetic smile. I was mortified and confused, stuttering out an excuse. I had no idea why my body was reacting this way. He was understanding and assured me that we had all the time in the world, but little did we know that this would be a recurring issue for the next five years. Yes, five whole years. It's hard to believe, but we never managed to have successful intercourse during our entire relationship.
Why, you may ask? Well, I didn't know it at the time, but I was suffering from a condition called vaginismus. I had experienced pain during attempts to insert a tampon or during foreplay, but I never thought it would be a problem when I actually wanted to have sex. It turns out, it was a major issue. While about 1 in 10 women in the UK experience some form of pain during penetration, the number of women diagnosed with vaginismus is unknown. It was like I had a brick wall inside of me, and any attempt to push through it resulted in excruciating pain.
I didn't receive a proper diagnosis until I was 23, even though I had been in a relationship with my boyfriend for three years at that point. You may be wondering how our relationship lasted so long with such a major issue, but the truth is, we had a great relationship and we enjoyed sex in other ways. We fell head over heels for each other when we first met, and I felt like we were on the same wavelength. Our physical attraction to each other was undeniable, and by our second date, we found ourselves in my bed. However, we were faced with the awkward issue of my pain, which persisted every time we tried to have sex.
To his credit, my boyfriend didn't see it as a real problem until about six months into our relationship, when he suggested I see a doctor. But I was too ashamed to talk to a professional about it, still hoping that one day it would all just work out. As the years went by, we were still able to have a fulfilling sex life, but without the traditional penis-in-vagina penetration. We discovered that there are other ways to experience pleasure and intimacy, and we certainly took advantage of that.
However, after a year, then two, and then three, I couldn't ignore the problem any longer. We were in a long-distance relationship for the second year, which made it easier to brush off our lack of penetrative sex. But when we were finally reunited and still unable to make it work, I knew I had to seek medical help. I booked an appointment with a gynaecologist to finally get some answers.
During the appointment, we made small talk until she inserted her fingers into me. Immediately, I felt the familiar pain and had to stop her. She explained that my pelvic floor muscles were involuntarily contracting, creating a clenched fist-like sensation. This was the cause of my pain, and my muscles needed to relax, but they wouldn't. That was the moment I was officially diagnosed with vaginismus.
The doctor tried to reassure me that there was nothing wrong with me, but it was hard to believe. It was just an unfortunate condition that I had been dealing with for years without even knowing it.
Throughout the five years of our relationship, my boyfriend and I struggled with a frustrating and unexpected challenge - we were never able to have successful penetrative sex. It was a moment we had been eagerly anticipating, but as soon as he made the attempt, my body seemed to rebel against me. I could feel the tension in my legs and arms as if there was a physical barrier preventing us from moving forward.
It was a confusing and embarrassing moment for both of us. I was just as shocked as he was by my unexpected response. After all, I was attracted to him and had been looking forward to being alone together like this. But instead, he had to stop and get off of me. I apologized, trying to explain that it was just happening too fast, but I didn't really understand what was going on with my body.
Unfortunately, this would become a recurring issue for us over the next five years. Despite our best efforts and our strong love for each other, we were never able to successfully have intercourse. It wasn't until later that I learned the reason for this - I had a condition called vaginismus.
Before my diagnosis at the age of 23, I had experienced pain with inserting tampons or during foreplay with previous partners, but I never thought it would be a problem when I wanted to have sex. As it turns out, this condition affects many women, but the exact number is unknown. It was like there was a brick wall inside of me, and any physical contact or pressure would cause pain.
My boyfriend and I managed to make our relationship work despite this challenge. We had a strong connection and enjoyed being intimate in other ways. Our minds operated on the same frequency, and I was deeply attracted to him. Even on our second date, we found ourselves in bed together, eager to explore our physical chemistry. But when we faced the awkward issue of my pain, we were met with disappointment every time.
My ex didn't realize the extent of the problem until we had been together for about six months. He suggested that I see a doctor, but I was too ashamed to talk to a professional about it. I held onto the hope that eventually, it would just work itself out. But as time went on, and our attempts at intercourse continued to fail, I knew I needed to seek help.
We were still able to have a satisfying sex life without penetration. As I learned, sex doesn't have to involve penis-in-vagina penetration. We found pleasure in other ways, and I was grateful for his understanding and patience. But as the years went by without any progress, I couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong with me.
It wasn't until our third year together, when we were reunited after a period of long-distance, that I finally booked an appointment with a gynecologist. As we made small talk, I could feel my anxiety rising. And when she inserted her fingers into me, the pain was unbearable. I had to ask her to stop, my body tensing up in response.
It was then that she explained to me what was happening. My pelvic floor muscles were involuntarily clamping down, preventing any kind of penetration. This was the moment I received my diagnosis of vaginismus. It was a relief to have a name for what I was experiencing, but it was also upsetting to know that there was no easy fix.
The doctor tried to reassure me that there was nothing wrong with me, that it was just an unfortunate condition. But it was hard to accept that when it was affecting such an important aspect of my relationship. Despite this setback, my boyfriend and I continued to find ways to enjoy intimacy, and our love for each other only grew stronger.
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