Yesterday, I had a bit of a revelation. I am totally in the closet. Not in the traditional homosexual kinda way. But in a similar way, in that I feel like I’m harbouring a pretty big secret. A secret that I really don’t want to tell most people.
I’m a virgin. And I’m 32. And I have panic attacks in my vagina.
I was talking to my counselor about this yesterday, and it really is pretty difficult to keep this vag thing a secret. But I do it because I don’t really think most people would understand. And I’m having to do it all the time.
I don’t tell people I’m going to an appointment with my counselor. I say that I’m going to a “meeting.” I don’t tell people that I’m going to a pelvic physio appointment. I tell them that I need physio for my shoulder.
My husband’s in on it too. He doesn’t tell the people he works with that he’s going with me to see our sex therapist. Instead he makes up something about a mortgage broker or investment advisor.
When people ask when we’re going to start a family, we don’t tell the truth. We say that we still have things we want to do with our lives before we have kids.
When friends talk about sex, I just smile and nod along with them, and pretend like I know exactly what it’s like.
But I’m in the closet.
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable telling people. I have no problem talking about it. But I want people to understand. I want to be heard. I want people to be okay with being ignorant about it. I want them to ask questions.
I don’t to be the subject of gossip behind my back. I don’t want people to think I’m weird, or selfish, or crazy.
I guess that’s why I’m talking about it here. I hope that one day this vag stuff will be a bit more mainstream and we can stop hiding.