Currently listening to…
Last weekend, I caught up with an old friend. He’s married now, with a newborn baby. Our text exchange lulled slightly in the space where I might have typed, I’m married now, too! or I just had a newborn myself! That is, if I wasn’t too scared to get married or have a baby.
How can we possibly be old enough for marriage and kids? I’m only 17 and I just had sex for the first time five minutes ago! I thought, despite neither one of those things being true. (Tell me you have vaginismus without telling me.)
Our chat made me reminisce about our time together as teenagers, lounging in a field of tall, yellow grass, The Beatles’ Love on repeat in the pair of headphones we shared. I remember that I was wearing a gray raglan shirt from Roxy, and that I was stressed about my pit stains. (Tell me you were an anxious child without telling me.)
We liked each other. We held hands at the county fair, and we made out in the back row of a movie theater during a screening I don’t remember. We never had sex, but maybe we should have.
A few years later, there was the boy whose bedroom window I crawled into in the middle of the night. I laid in his bed and felt his heavy body on top of mine. His eyes dared me to press forward in the darkness, but I didn’t.
Then there was the boy in the backseat of my mom’s minivan. We made a pact to lose our virginities to each other after we graduated. That was the first time I ever made an unsuccessful plan to have sex, but it wouldn’t be the last.
I moved in with my high school sweetheart soon after I graduated. We spent almost eight sexless years together.
I dated my sister’s roommate after my first real heartbreak. He was nice. He bought me candles and wine glasses for my new apartment. We slept next to each other for three months, but we never had sex.
I even had a few Bumble dates before I met my current partner, all potentially great candidates for a one night stand that never happened.
Most days I’m grateful for my vaginismus journey — accidentally abstaining from sex for so long probably saved me a considerable amount of heartbreak, and/or an unplanned pregnancy or two. Plus, connecting with women all over the world who are still in the thick of their vaginismus journeys has made me feel aligned and purposeful in my writing.
But sometimes, when I’m thinking about my old friend, and all the instances in my life where a young girl might’ve, could’ve, probably would’ve made the decision to have sex, I fear that I missed out.
Thinking about all the opportunities I didn’t take, because I couldn’t take them, made me sad. I wondered if more experience back then would've made me confident enough to settle down in a marriage or with a new baby now.
For a few days, I sat in that sadness. I cried a lot, and blamed it on the moon entering Cancer. I journaled about how awful of a person I must be to think about having sex with other people’s husbands. I told myself what I tell my friends, what is for you will not miss you. I listened to Taylor Swift’s right where you left me on repeat. I made this collage on Pinterest Shuffles. If you know the song, you understand that I am very much still at the restaurant, at least for now.
I have so many reasons to celebrate where I am today: I’m in love, I have sex now, I’m prioritizing pleasure, and I’m well on my way to helping thousands of women who also struggle with this very common problem that caused me so much distress in my teens and twenties.
Appreciating where you’re headed occasionally requires a look back at where you’ve been. In healing, there is grieving. I’m sharing this with you in case you need that reminder, too.
I have spent years regretting the strictness of my upbringing that lead me to the same crying/journaling session and a few times since after my long time crush hit me up after I couldn’t do anything about it. The limerence toward the situation has waned and I try reminding myself (more frequently than I’d like to admit) “just because this could’ve been different doesn’t mean they’d be better”. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t refreshing to know I’m not alone in a similar experience.
Your experiences (or lack thereof) and choices have made you who you are and I wouldn't change that for the world. You are right where you're supposed to be and I am so very grateful!!! Love you!