dealing with pain and dysfunction


Dinner with Inga Muscio

I had dinner with Inga Muscio, author of Cunt: A Declaration of Independence last night, care of the Cornell Womens’ Resource Center.  We mostly discussed her newer book, Autobiography of a Blue-Eyed Devil, which I will definitely read if I can get my hands on a copy.  After dinner and discussion, I asked her to sign my copy of Cunt and said that I had a few questions for her, as a woman with female sexual dysfunction.

Though she was a perfectly pleasant and fun woman, I was very nervous to ask her these questions.  My internalized stereotypes about feminists (though I proudly identify as one), as well as her writing style, led me to believe that she might be brash or dismissive about my concerns–concerns I share with other women who have vulvodynia.  However, she was very open to suggestions, critique, and gave me a good reminder that we all fuck up sometimes.

I asked her about the line that’s something about how men only love women when we are “consumer… bitch, concubine, accountant, orphan, punching bag,… threeholestopenetrate…” (copypasta taken from Feminists with FSD, whose post I revisited before dinner).  As someone who has a dysfunctional, umm… hole, that can be pretty alienating.  My lack of “normal” sex-having abilities has been pretty self-esteem crushing, and to read that line from a fellow feminist, one who’s writing about vaginas, someone who’s supposed to be on my side, was a little hurtful.  Reading that was like having someone tell me “yep, your suspicions about men are correct, you are unsexy and therefore worthless.”

Her only response was that yeah, she fucked up, she’s sorry, and if I wanted to talk to her more about it (or if anyone else who felt similarly when reading Cunt), I should definitely email her.  She said she’d take that–and other issues that have been brought to her attention–into consideration when publishing the next edition.  We talked a bit about her dedication to alternative medicine and the medicalization of women’s bodies, and while she was far less than willing to change her stance on that, she did say that she understands the necessity of Western medicine for some women.  She signed my book and thanked me for coming, and I’m very glad I got to meet her and discuss pelvic pain with her.


i do not know better

ugh, regarding the ETA in my last post, I have been having stabby pains all day :(

you’d think I would know better by now, but it just doesn’t work that way.

1. still soooo not over ex-boyf and and have been trying to majorly distract myself from that with a series of debaucherous interactions for, oh, a year or so, and

2. hellllllo, i am in college, sometimes (many times) i want to get laid like a normal person

and with those forces combined, i end up with random dudes and stabby pains.  again.  BALLS.  neither of those things are good for me.  and writing drunk posts is verrry difficult.  but it is late at night, ithaca shuts down at 2:00a, all my girlfriends are dating dudes (aka boooring), all my guy friends are Nice Guys so they can vayan a la mierda, all the girls i’d bring home are dating girls who are not me, all the dudes i’d bring home are nowhere to be found, and the one dude i’d actually like to date probably hates me and i’d feel bad for asking him about it.  DRUNK POST.  sorry, internet.  this is what happens on a saturday night when my vagina hurts and my soul hurts and i need to let you know about it asap.

as a sidenote, I feel like whenever I use the “sex” tag, i also use the “pain” tag.  uhh.  are those even two separate things?

Now that this is a hungover post, I can go where I was actually meaning to with this.  Even though sex still hurts and I know I’ll have stabby pains for a few days or so, I still consider a dry spell to be a bad thing.  After nearly eight years (wtf really?) of pelvic pain, my sex drive is very much intact at the moment.  I’ve definitely gone through phases where it disappeared and I thought it’d never be heard from again, but that’s certainly not the case right now.

I’ve been through a lot of trial and error (okay mostly error let’s just be honest) with sex, and even though it hurts more often than not–or will for a few days after–I just keep trying like sometime I’ll magically be all better.  As much as I want to blame hormones and biological imperative, I really think I’m probably using sex as either a distraction from emotional issues (uhh, see above, wow that is embarrassing) or as a way to feel like I’m a little bit normal.

Anyway, that is what I was trying to say last night.  I need a coffee and to get my shit together enough to get some work done.  Or maybe I’ll just keep looking at Columbia’s course listings to cheer myself up.  It appears that moving to NYC will not, actually, be a way for me to get over my aforementioned issues and maybe it’ll be just like Ithaca where I hide in my apartment a lot, but hey.  Haters gonna hate.


nice guys, Nice Guys, and not getting laid

My life has been a Nice-Guy-splosion this week.  FUCK.  I can only think of one friend who is a dude and not a total goddamned asshole/Nice Guy right now.  Shoutout to Dan for not being a total bag of dicks.

The thing about dealing with so many Nice Guys is that after awhile, I stopped feeling like a person.  Most of my male friends were or are just straight up lying about it; we were never friends no matter how much I thought we were.  Right now, I don’t feel like a person who might be interesting or have something worthwhile to contribute to a friendship other than fucking.  AND HEY, I CAN BARELY EVEN DO THAT, AMIRITE?  I mean, if I can’t fuck then I’m basically pointless.  Obvs.

And the real killer thing is?  I’m in my most epic and shitty dry spell ever. Attention dudes!  This could be so easy for both of us.  Stop pretending to be my super platonic awesome friend, state your intentions and quit being whiny little manipulative assholes for an hour or so and you’re more than welcome in my bed.  What’s that, you can’t manage it?  FUCK RIGHT OFF, THEN.  I HAVE NO USE FOR YOU AND YOU HAVE NO USE FOR ME.

ETA:  it appears that the antidote to a dry spell is whining about it to the internet…